


My Broken Sunshine

by deanandcastielwinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Eating Disorders, Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandcastielwinchester/pseuds/deanandcastielwinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story where everyone’s sad, until that whole falling in love thing happens, then everyone is less sad. Castiel thinks he’s worthless and Dean thinks the boy with the messy hair and bright blue eyes is worth everything.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike>[on hiatus while i am in the hospital. i'm very sorry and i hope to be writing again soon]</strike>
</p><p>discontinued</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song The Sea Is a Good Place to Think of the Future by Los Campesinos!

The morning sky was painted grey, the sun hidden behind an army of angry clouds. The dim light trickled into Castiel’s room, through his window, creating a somber atmosphere. Castiel stared blankly at his ceiling, vaguely appreciating how the weather seemed to match his mood.

It was his first day of school and he was anything but excited to be going. There were so many other things he’d rather be doing than starting his senior year of high school, like sleeping.

Heaving a large sigh, Castiel turned on his side to stare at his alarm clock. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet. He decided to count the seconds until it did. _One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…_ Castiel counted one hundred and thirty-three seconds before the beeping started. It was deafening in the silence that had permeated the room. Castiel flinched, but couldn’t be bothered to turn it off yet. If he turned it off, he’d have to get out of bed, and if he got out of bed he’d eventually end up at school.

He let the alarm continue until it turned off automatically, leaving Castiel’s ears ringing in the quiet. Another sigh escaped his lips. Maybe if he burrowed far enough into his blankets, they would swallow him up.

He was in the process of testing his theory, when a harsh knock sounded from his door.

“Come on, Castiel. You have to get up,” Anna called.

“No,” Castiel grumbled, pulling a blanket over his head.

“Yes! It’s your first day back. You don’t want to miss it.” Castiel could hear her attempting to open the door, but he’d locked it before he’d gone to sleep. Giving up on opening the door, Anna reverted to her obnoxious knocking, “Come on, Castiel,” Anna repeated sounding exasperated.

Eventually the knocking became too much for Castiel to bear so early in the morning. If accepting Anna’s orders was what it took to make the noise stop, he would do it. “Fine!” Castiel snapped, throwing off his blankets dramatically.

“Thank you. Now, get dressed and I’ll get some breakfast ready for you,” His sister said brightly, as if she hadn’t just become the bane of Castiel’s existence, before leaving.

Castiel scowled as he listened to her footsteps walk downstairs and into their large kitchen. He continued listening to the echoing sound of plates clattering, cupboards opening, and the fridge being shut a little too forcefully.

Their house really was much too big for just two people. Maybe if Gabriel returned, or even better, his father… No. Castiel couldn’t think like that. Their father had left them. Abandoned them when they needed him most and that was unforgivable. Sadness crashed over him, like vicious waves, unsatisfied until their victim had drowned. Castiel felt like he was drowning, and there was nothing and no one to keep him afloat. He just kept sinking deeper and deeper into his sorrows until he couldn’t get the air to enter his lungs.

After taking a deep, shaky breath, he pulled on the first clothes he saw that looked and smelt relatively clean. His scowled deepened as he took in his reflection. His blue long sleeved shirt was rumpled and his dark jeans didn’t look much better, but his hair was the real disaster. He had terrible bedhead. He grabbed a hairbrush and ran it through his unruly hair, but the strands continued to stick straight up defiantly.

Throwing the brush on the floor angrily, Castiel grabbed his iPod and stormed out of his room.

“Hey, Grumpy,” Anna smiled sweetly at her brother, “Breakfast’s on the table.”

“I do not believe I have time to eat breakfast, if I wish to catch the bus to school,” Castiel lied smoothly. He glanced at the toasted bagel with cream cheese and glass of orange juice his sister had laid out for him with disdain, he sighed yet again this morning, before preparing to leave.

Anna watched Castiel gather his school supplies and toss them in his worn backpack before speaking. “Well, you have to eat something.”

Castiel just shrugged before proceeding to tug his grubby converse sneakers onto his feet, “My apologies, Anna, but the bus really will not wait for me.”

“Just wait a second. I’ll pack it up so you can eat it on the bus.”

Castiel wondered if he could just make a break for it before his sister came back with his food, but before he could make a decision, Anna had returned with the bagel in a plastic sandwich bag. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Castiel replied, trying to relay as much honesty as he could into his small lie of gratitude. He plastered a tight smile on his face that he hoped his sister was too oblivious to realise was fake.  He was just about to make his exit when his sister caught his arm. Castiel flinched at the contact. Had she finally not fallen for his ruse? How did she find out about his dieting? Panic set his skin alight. Every inch of him felt as if he’d been mildly electrocuted. His palms began to sweat as he wracked his brain for any sort of excuse his sister might buy. It didn’t even need to be plausible, just honest sounding enough for Anna to believe.

“I forgot to give you lunch money.” Anna explained as she tucked a ten dollar bill into her brother’s hand before patting him on the shoulder, ushering him outside and wishing him a good day.

Castiel let his breath out in one long gush. He’d have to be much more careful in regards to his eating habits around his sister if he didn’t want to get caught. Pocketing the money, Castiel walked a few houses down before removing the bagel from the bag and throwing it onto someone’s lawn. Maybe some sort of animal will find it more pleasurable than Castiel would have. Did animals even like bagels and cream cheese? Castiel suspected a wandering dog would find it. Didn’t dogs eat anything and everything? He hoped so.

After untangling his earphones, Castiel stuck them in his ears and turned the volume up on his iPod. Anna was always telling him he’d go deaf, but he didn’t much care. Castiel didn’t really care about anything when he thought about it. It was as if a dark, empty pit had taken residence in his heart, and every time he tried to examine that pit, he’d step too far and more pieces of himself would crumble, enlarging the pit. It seemed bigger chunks were crumbling every day. Soon, Castiel would be nothing but a void.

Anna always complained about the melancholy tracks Castiel played day and night. She preferred up beat pop songs, the kind of songs you could dance to in a club. Castiel gave a derisive snort at his sister’s taste in music. He liked his lyrics to be meaningful and he liked the sadness that seeped into his mind when he listened to his songs. His iPod was full of music that reflected his soul. That dark twisted matter that lived inside him, mangled by years of self-hatred and anguish.

Castiel watched disinterestedly as the bus drove right past the closest bus stop. He’d tried taking the bus a couple of times at the beginning of freshman year, but had quickly realised it was not for him. The bus was always packed and surprisingly loud for such an early time. Plus, there always seemed to be the remnants of someone’s meal sprinkled all over the seats.  _Perhaps the bus would be more suited to mice_ , Castiel thought wryly.

Castiel dragged his feet, taking as long as he could. He was trying to avoid the unavoidable. The thought of being stuck in a building full of obnoxious teenagers for six hours made him terribly uncomfortable. The more Castiel thought about what lay ahead, the harder it was becoming to breathe. Fuck. He was being pathetic. For God’s sake, it was his last year. Just one more year then he’ll never have to see any of his classmates again. Castiel repeated this to himself like some sort of mantra. _One more year, one more year, one more year…_

When that didn’t work, he dug his nails into his scalp until he felt a trickle of wet. “Stop being so pathetic,” Castiel breathed.

As an extra precaution against his anxiety, Castiel removed his pack from his shoulder and dug through it until he found his medication. Half of the pills he had hadn’t even been prescribed to him. They’d been given to him by all sorts of people. Some of these people were just random strangers, others were more like acquaintances. Perhaps it wasn’t the safest way to go about getting a high, but really Castiel was much too tired to care. Besides, who was he to turn down free drugs?

He sorted through the colourful pills spread out on his palm before popping a couple of them into his mouth and dry swallowing. He hoped they’d start working soon. Castiel wasn’t sure if he could face the day without being in his temporary dreamy state of mind.

He put the remaining pills that had been in his hand back where they belonged before zipping up his sack and slinging it over his shoulder. Adjusting his backpack, Castiel stood up straighter, raising his chin. He would not be weak. He would not have an anxiety attack. He would not make himself a target. What he would be doing was marching to school at a reasonable pace, heading to his classes, being a perfect student and remaining invisible.

With that in mind, that’s exactly what Castiel did, making his way to his first class with twenty minutes to spare. He was glad he’d arrived early. The hallways weren’t packed yet and he had first pick at which desk he wanted to be sat at. He chose a seat right at the very front of the class where he would be able to easily see the teacher and the whiteboard.

It was with great displeasure that Castiel realised he was still a giant, glass ball of anxiety, ready to crack at the slightest disruption. His meds hadn’t started working yet. To distract himself, he pulled George Orwell’s _1984_ out of his bag and began reading as he waited for the class to fill and the teacher to begin teaching.

Castiel quickly became so engrossed in his book. He lost track of time, and was completely ignorant to his surroundings. He didn’t even notice the classroom becoming packed and the bell signalling the beginning of class ringing. He was in a completely different world. A world where, maybe, just maybe, he could be happy. _If only the real world could be such a place_ , Castiel though sullenly before returning his full attention to his book.

 

* * *

 

Monday morning, Dean woke up to his brother, Sam, shaking him.

“Dean! Dean, wake up! Dean!” Sam said loudly.

“Calm down, Sammy. Where’s the fire?” Dean asked groggily.

“Do you even know what today is?” Sam was giving Dean one of his bitch faces. He was clearly unimpressed with his big brother.

“I don’t know, it’s September or something, right?” Dean ran a hand over his face in an attempt to better wake himself.

“Good for you, you know the month,” sarcasm dripped from Sam’s mouth.

“Jesus, Sammy. I don’t know. I just woke up. I’m all confused and shit,” Dean muttered angrily.

“It’s the first day of school, Dean,” Sam stated with an eye roll and another bitch face.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. Little Sammy’s all grown up and going to high school today.” Dean grinned ruffling his brother’s shaggy mop of hair.

“Yes,” Sam replied swatting Dean’s hand from his head, “Now hurry up. I don’t want to be late!” With that, Sam turned quickly on his heels and stomped out of Dean’s room, leaving a sleepy Dean in peace.

It took about ten minutes for Dean to wake up enough to hop in the shower. He washed himself quickly, wanting to leave early like Sam had intended despite his previous laziness in bed. He’d never admit it to his brother, but he was probably just as excited to be going to school today. Not that he like the educational aspect of it all, but he did get to see his friends, Jo and Ash, as well as all the girls his high school had to offer (or at least all the girls he hadn’t slept with yet). All those weren’t the best parts, though. No, the best part was that it was a great excuse to get him and Sammy out of the house for an extended period of time.

Ever since his dad had gotten fired from yet another job a month ago, he’d been spending all his time at home in a drunken haze. Dean was used to his dad being home for a week tops, before he would find another job somewhere else. Dean had grown comfortable in their routine for the past couple years. His dad would leave for a couple months, then come home. Of course, he was drunk the entire time, but then he’d leave for another job a couple days later, leaving Dean to take care of his brother on his own. Ever since he had stopped taking Sam and Dean with him, he’d never stayed a month. Dean wasn’t sure if something had happened recently or not. All he knew was that while his dad was drunk, he was unpredictable and dangerous, and it was best his brother wasn’t in the house when his father turned abusive.

As soon as Dean was clean and dressed, he ran down stairs to get breakfast. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to have his mother make him pancakes like she used to. _She would have gone all out with breakfast today, for Sammy’s first day of high school,_ Dean thought sadly.

He didn’t have much time to ponder this when his stomach grumbled loudly as the smell of bacon snapped him out of his thoughts. Dean turned his attention to his little brother who was attending to the sizzling strips of meat on the stove.

“Wow, look at you. Making us breakfast. You really are all grown up.” Dean teased grinning widely.

“I’d be careful with what I’d say if I was you, or else you won’t be getting any of this bacon.” Sam quipped.

“You wouldn’t dare get between a man and his bacon,” Dean growled in mock anger.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sam laughed, separating the bacon onto two plates equally. He then put two pieces of buttered toast on each plate. “I tried to make eggs, but, well, that didn’t really work out, so I made toast instead.”

“Nice job, Sammy. It’s not even burnt,” Dean smiled, taking his plate from his frowning brother.

They ate their food in relative silence. The only noises were the sounds of their chewing and the heavy snores coming from the family room couch where their father was sprawled out.

Before leaving for school, Dean went to check on his father, scrunching his nose at the smell. He really hoped the stench of alcohol wouldn’t take residence in his clothing. His brow creased as he took in empty bottle after empty bottle of beer. It was like a graveyard. Each bottle represented a gravestone. Dean’s mind was filled with the thought that one of these graves would be his father’s if he didn’t clean up his act. Dean gathered the bottles, putting them in a large garbage bag, then took them out to the rubbish bin.

He took his time gathering up his text books and notebooks, trying to get himself into the frame of mind he’d been in when Sammy woke him up. By the time Dean entered the garage, he was almost back to normal. At the sight of Sam waiting by Dean’s car, bouncing on his toes in excitement, Dean couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his exuberant little brother.

“Dean, come _on!_ ” Sam cried.

Grinning at his baby brother, Dean unlocked the car and the two of them took their seats in the ’67 Chevy Impala. Dean started the engine, loving the purr his baby made. He blasted his Led Zeppelin tape, _Physical Graffiti_ , much to Sam’s annoyance and raced to the school.

Dean sang along loudly ignoring his brother’s bitching. He was in a good mood dammit and nothing was going to ruin it. He was in the middle of singing _Kashmir_ , when he caught sight of a figure with dark hair huddled in on himself, standing on the sidewalk. Dean was driving too fast to see if the person was okay or not. He tried to catch a glimpse of the person in his rear-view mirror, but he couldn’t see anyone. Shrugging to himself he turned the volume as loud as it would go, so that it was warped around the edges. Sam pouted, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, praying he wouldn’t go deaf by the time he got to school. Wouldn’t that just be great if he couldn’t hear any of his lessons on his fist day? He kept his mouth shut though. He knew the rules of Dean’s car: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole. Just because he respected the rules, didn’t mean he liked them.

Within a minute they arrived at school. Dean parked as far away from the school as possible, even though the lot was practically empty. He didn’t want to risk parking where someone might scratch his baby. Not that he couldn’t fix her up, but she deserved better than to be beat up by some careless kids.

The car had only just come to a stop when, Sam threw the door open running out of the car with a “Bye, Dean,” yelled over his shoulder. Dean watched his younger brother jog over to a couple of other freshman. His hair fell in his eyes and Dean couldn’t help but shake his head fondly at his dorky brother as he started gesturing excitedly about something. It was probably about his courses, the nerd. Dean watched as one girl in particular seemed to hang on to his every word. Interesting. He’d have to bug his brother about that later.

Dean got out of his car, gently shutting the door and leaning against her as he waited for his friends to show up. He didn’t have to wait long before there was a hard clap to his back, making him nearly fall flat on his face. He turned to glare at the blonde who was smiling innocently at him.

“Hello, Dean. Is something wrong?” She continued smiling, but a mischievous glint shone in her eyes.

“Shit, Jo. The hell was that for?” Dean asked running his hand back and forth over his sore shoulder.

“What do you mean? I was only saying hello.”

“Joanna Beth Harvelle, you need to work on making your hellos less painful.” Dean ground out.

Jo just shrugged.

Dean sighed before asking “Where’s Ash?”

“I don’t know, probably still sleeping. I think he might have been partying last night,” Jo snorted.

“Partying?” Dean asked confused. “With who? I didn’t realise he had any other friends.”

“Very funny, mi amigo, but one does not need friends to have a badass time,” Ash drawled from behind the pair.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Jo teased.

“So, I’m a bit hung over. Sorry for having fun while I’m still young and beautiful,” Ash joked.

Dean and Jo both chuckled at that.

“Yeah, you’re a real looker,” Dean said sarcastically.

“What can I say? Ladies love the mullet,” Ash then proceeded to toss his ridiculous hair around like a model in a shampoo commercial, making Dean and Jo breathless with laughter. They were clinging to each other for support as they tried to regain control of their breathing.

When they’d both calmed down enough, Dean hooked his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Come on, Kate Moss. We have classes to get to,” Dean hooked his other arm over Jo’s shoulders. The three of them walked into school side by side and Dean concluded that today was in fact going to be a very good day.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Dean noticed when he walked into his first class of the day was a strangely familiar shock of dark, disheveled hair buried behind a book. His curiosity was piqued as he attempted to catch a glimpse of the face behind the book. Did Dean know this person? Something in him told him he did.

Dean sauntered towards his mysterious classmate, as casually as he could. He was just about to pass by and surreptitiously determine whether or not he did in fact know the boy, when he was shoved forward. Dean stumbled clumsily past the object of his interest without as much as a peek. A surge of disappointment washed over him as he turned to see who had pushed him.

“Winchester, pick up the pace, would you?” Andy Gallagher walked up next to Dean, placing a steadying hand on his arm, grinning playfully. Dean tried to return the smile, but it turned out more like a grimace. Though Andy had meant no harm, Dean couldn’t help but feel irritated at his friend’s boisterous attitude. He’d been so close to ascertaining the identity of the boy in the blue shirt.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled distractedly, glancing behind him at the spiky tufts of hair he was so very intrigued by.

Andy removed his hand, shrugging, before turning to join his group of friends at the back of the classroom. He cast one last curious look in Dean’s direction, to which Dean was completely oblivious.

Without taking his eyes off the bookworm in the front row, Dean sat himself in the desk to the right of the one directly behind the boy. He was pretty sure he’d never been sat so close to the front of the class in his life. What had gotten into him? Dean was being ridiculous. He didn’t know this person. Hell, he didn’t even know what they looked like, except for the fact that they had the hottest sex hair he had ever see─

 _Fuck_.

He did not just think that. No, boy’s hair wasn’t hot; boy’s hair was _never_ hot. In fact, nothing about boys was hot. Girls were hot. What with their soft curves, and their delicate features. Dean loved long hair and miniskirts, but more importantly, Dean loved breasts. He couldn’t give that up for some nerd with stupid, messy bedhead.

Shaking his head self-deprecatingly, he focused his attention onto his teacher, Mrs. Tanner. She was a kind older woman, who had clearly been very attractive when she was younger. Dean had had her teaching his History class last year, so he knew just what to expect from her this year. At the moment, she had managed to quiet the class and was taking attendance.

“Adam Milligan?” Mrs. Tanner, called scanning the mass of students for Adam’s raised hand. When she had spotted him, she turned back to her list and checked him off, moving on to the next name.

“Cas…Castiel? Milton?” his teacher stuttered over the unusual name.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Bedhead whip his head up from his book so fast he looked as if he had been electrocuted. Bedhead glanced at the clock, confusion clouding his features. Sharp, strong features Dean tried not to notice.

“Is Castiel here?” Mrs. Tanner asked after several seconds of silence.

“Present,” Bedhead, no, Castiel responded lifting his hand slightly. His voice was deep and gravelly, making an unwanted shiver run down Dean’s spine.

It took all his willpower to shift his gaze in a much safer direction. He caught sight of Lisa Braeden blatantly checking him out. Their eyes locked and a slow, flirty smile spread across her face. Dean’s answering smile was cocky and suggestive as he wiggled his eyebrows. Lisa bit her glossy lower lip, peering at Dean under her eyelashes.

“Dean Winchester!” Mrs. Tanner sounded exasperated. She was staring him down, hands on her hips, “How many times do I have to call your name before you answer?”

Dean gave her his most charming smile, widening his eyes innocently, “But, Mrs. Tanner, you already know who I am. Do I really need to tell you something you already know?”

Several students let out small chuckles as Mrs. Tanner rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “All right, Dean. Just make sure you pay attention for the rest of the class,” she said smiling at him fondly.

Dean nodded as he pulled out a notebook and pen from his backpack and began doodling. This class was going to be a piece of cake.

Dean had no idea what was happening in his class. Mrs. Tanner was talking about the course outline, or maybe something that had happened to her over the summer break. Either way, Dean didn’t really care. He was much too absorbed in his thoughts. He had stopped doodling when a patch of scribbles began to take the shape of the back of a certain someone’s head of hair.

 _You’re only thinking about him because he looks so damn familiar_ , Dean told himself. Maybe if he just figured out where he knew him from, it would stop his eyes from being drawn to him.

It wasn’t until Castiel slouched in his seat, curling in on himself that a memory flashed through Dean’s mind. In his head, he could picture a lonely figure in a blue shirt walking to school, stopping to hunch over. He remembered the mild concern he’d felt as to whether or not the stranger was okay after he’d raced past him at an illegal speed.

So, Castiel was the stranger. Dean inspected him as closely as he could without being noticed. Castiel’s face was completely blank, but he appeared attentive, pen poised over his thick notebook. Every so often his pen would fly across the page whenever he thought Mrs. Tanner said something important.

He looked okay. He didn’t appear to have ever been upset or in any pain today. Most likely, Castiel had been hugging himself for warmth seeing as it had been fairly chilly earlier in the morning. Nothing to worry about, Castiel was fine.

Dean continued staring longer than he probably should have. After all, he had figured out the reason for the unexplainable familiarity. His curiosity had been satisfied, so why was he still looking? He should have been looking away. He knew he should have, but he couldn’t.

Suddenly, Castiel was looking at him. Dean felt his face heat up as he ducked his head, finally able to avert his eyes. His heart was pounding so frantically he could have sworn a stampede of horses had entered the room, it was so loud. Dean had been caught being a massive creep. He didn’t think he could be more embarrassed if he tried. Jesus Christ, what was happening to him?

To save the situation from being anymore awkward he pasted what he hope was a casual expression onto his face and glanced at Castiel. Dean’s breath caught in his throat and his casual façade faltered. Castiel was staring at him with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. He suddenly felt as if he had been thrown unceremoniously into the freezing depths of a sea or an ocean and was struggling to keep his head above the water. Castiel just kept staring at him, or wait, no, not at him, but behind him? Dean turned hesitantly to look at the girl behind him. She was talking animatedly about something that had happened a million years ago, or some shit like that. Dean wasn’t listening. He was overwhelmed with the sense of relief that accompanied the realisation that Castiel hadn’t been regarding him as a freak, but was merely paying attention in class, something Dean should have been doing.

Dean wondered how Sammy’s first day was going. He was probably being just as attentive as Castiel was being. He was probably learning so much his little nerd brain wouldn’t know what to do with itself. Dean was full of affection and pride for his little brother. He really was going to grow up to be quite successful. Hell, he already had his eye on a scholarship for Stanford and Dean planned on supporting him one hundred percent.

Pulling out his phone, Dean sent a quick teasing text to Sam to see if he would reply. There was no response for the rest of the period. It was only to be expected, but part of Dean had hoped his brother would respond so he could pose as a much needed distraction from Castiel.

Dean didn’t chance another look at Castiel for the remainder of the period. It was harder to ignore him than he wanted it to be.

Dean’s stress and anxiety was greatly alleviated when the bell for the next class rang. He gathered his supplies together and threw them haphazardly into his pack, making a beeline for his English class on the other side of the school.

The pocket of Dean’s worn jeans began vibrating as he sat down in his next class. Sam had finally texted him back.

**Sam: Don’t send me texts when we’re in class. Unlike some people I actually want to learn!**

Dean could practically feel the bitch face he was getting through the phone and couldn’t help laughing.

“What’s got you so happy?” Jo asked sitting herself next to Dean.

“Sam’s just being a bitch,” Dean said smiling.

“How’s he liking his first day?” Jo inquired with a knowing smirk.

“It’s Sam. It’s like he’s died and gone to Heaven,” Dean replied with a straight face.

“Well, at least one Winchester’s enjoying their first day,” Jo eyed Dean suspiciously.

“What do you mean? I’m having a fucking awesome time?”

“Come on, Dean. I’ve known you forever, what’s up?” Jo punched Dean in the arm lightly.

“What do you know about Castiel Milton?” Dean kept his face and voice as neutral as possible.

“Not much. Why?” Jo’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Is he new or something, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before?”

“Dean, he’s been going here for the past four years.”

“What? No way. I’m pretty sure I’ve never had a class with him before,” Dean was sure he wouldn’t be able to ever forget that hair or those _eyes_ …

“Hmm, it’s possible. I think he’s mostly in AP classes, and I’ve never seen him in the cafeteria before,” Jo pursed her lips in thought, “Why are you asking anyways?”

“No reason,” Dean blushed. He was acting like a prepubescent school girl. He wanted to vomit.

Jo looked at him with skepticism bright in her eyes, but before she could say anything, class started. Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He’d escaped Jo’s questioning, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before she pounced on him again.

By the end of the day, Dean was full of disappointment and relief. He hadn’t had any more classes with Castiel, and Jo had been right in saying Castiel was never in the cafeteria. He probably ate lunch outside or in an empty classroom, somewhere secluded at least.

From what Jo had told him, Castiel was a bit of a lone wolf. Dean had almost gone looking for him so they could eat together, but quickly thought better of it. He didn’t really know Castiel and Castiel certainly didn’t know Dean. Dean decided he would have to do something about that, sometime.

Dean met Sam by the Impala. The kid seemed even more excited than he’d been that morning.

“Good day?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

“The best!” Sam grinned, brushing his hair out of his eyes and getting into the now unlocked car.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

That was all Sam needed to hear before he launched into a detailed description of his day. He told Dean who his teachers were, what they were like, what classes were his favourite so far and who he had made friends with.

“Jessica’s pretty cool, though. I mean I’ve kinda seen her around, but she went to a different middle school than me so I’ve never actually talked to her until today, but I know we’re gonna be great friends. She’s super nice and she’s in all my classes,” Sam said all in one breath, his grin widening so much, Dean thought his face might actually split in half.

“Just friends, Sammy? Come on, I taught you better than that,” Dean smirked as his little brother turned bright red.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They didn’t talk much the rest of the drive home.  They didn’t really need to. It was nice just being in the company of his brother, but if Dean found himself checking the sidewalks for lonely boys in blue shirts, no one needed to know.

  

* * *

 

 

Castiel’s day could have been worse. At least, that’s what he has always had to tell himself. Today, those words held a bit more truth in them than usual.

He’d spent his entire morning completely stoned. Though somehow, unbeknownst to him, he’d managed to take perfectly comprehensible notes in all his classes. If it weren’t for the notes he’d taken he most likely would have thought he had skipped the first half of school.

When he tried to remember if anything interesting had happened in one of his subjects, it was like looking into someone else’s glasses. The mental images were blurred and felt all wrong. Any words spoken in the memories had been lost in his lazy daze.

Only one thing managed to crawl its way into the forefront of his foggy mind and that was the colour green. It was the sort of green grass got when the sun was shining brightly, all warm and golden. Castiel didn’t understand what the colour meant or where he’d seen it, but he quickly decided it was his favourite colour.

When lunch came, the blissful fog in Castiel’s mind was starting to dissipate, though not completely. He considered taking more pills, but settled on smoking a cigarette instead. Castiel walked outside, taking in the dull noon sky. He felt a connection to the clouds, as if they were somehow kin, expressing the same emotions. Perhaps they were all upset because Castiel was stuck firmly on the ground, when he really belonged in the skies, flying freely with his cloud-brothers.

Sighing, he made his way around to the side of the school no one ever went near. It wasn’t very far from the dumpster and discarded pieces of junk littered the gravel floor. Castiel sat on an abandoned tyre and pulled out a cigarette from his pack. He was running low and needed to buy some more.

After lighting the tip, Castiel stuck the filter between his lips and took a good, long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He removed the cigarette from his lips breathing out in a steady breath. His nerves were already beginning to calm down. Though, he always seemed to be the most calm when he was indulging in his self-destructive behaviour. Every time he took a drag from a cigarette, popped a pill, refused a meal, or cut himself, a wave of calm would wash over him, easing his anxiety with sweet whispered promises of death.

Castiel decided to smoke the last two cigarettes in his pack as a special back to school lunch. He’d just have to stop by a gas station on his way home to buy another pack.

When he had finished, he chewed a piece of sugar free gum and bought a bottle of water from a vending machine to get the smell and taste of tobacco out of his mouth. Not that he minded the scent, but he wanted to keep his innocent and studious persona intact for his teachers and, of course, Anna. It was selfish, but Castiel didn’t want anyone else to know what a complete disappointment he had become.

His stomach growled painfully, making him double over. He hadn’t eaten in three days and it was really starting to take a toll on his body. He tried to satisfy his hunger by drinking the rest of his water, but he knew that wouldn’t really soothe the ache in his gut. He made sure to avoid the cafeteria as he made his way to his after-lunch class. He knew if he caught the whiff of food, he might not be able to resist spending the money Anna gave him on a slice of cheesy, gooey, pepperoni pizza. The thought of eating made him equal parts nauseous and desperate for at least one bite.

Castiel dug his nails into his wrist _hard_. He could feel his skin break and the pain in his wrist distracted him from his earlier foolish fantasies of food. He didn’t deserve to eat. He was worthless, a waste of space. The less space he took up, the better it was for everyone else.

As usual, he was the first one to arrive to class. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t show up early because he was so very eager to learn, no, he came early because he didn’t have anything else to do or anyone else to be with.

No one knew, but sometimes the solitude was crippling. He enjoyed being by himself, he really did, just sometimes he craved to be loved. It was a confusing situation for Castiel. He hated everyone, including himself, so it was completely unfathomable for him to be able to give and receive the love of someone else.

Castiel sighed dramatically, flopping onto his desk, burying his head in the circle of his arms. His head was throbbing and he wasn’t sure if it was from lack of nourishment or whether it was because Castiel was a walking contradiction. He didn’t think it was possible for him to hate himself any more than he already did, but he managed to prove himself wrong. He was always proving people wrong. People thought he was a good kid, but that wasn’t true. He was also considered a cheerful individual with a fun, quirky personality. That was also a lie. Castiel was never cheerful and he had the personality of a dead slug.

He moaned into the wood of his desk as the constant murmurs of self-hatred thread their way into his head, building a permanent home for themselves where they could remind Castiel every second of every day how pathetic he was.

“Castiel? Are you feeling all right?” Mrs. Wellsh, his maths teacher, asked. Concern made her forehead crease down the center.

“Oh, yes. I am quite all right, thank you. I have just been suffering through a most disagreeable ailment this past week. Not to worry though, I am feeling much better this week,” Castiel contorted his features into a mask of the right amount of earnestness, contentment, gratitude and determination to beat his sickness.

“Thank goodness. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my best student feeling well,” She smiled at him kindly.

Her words bounced off of Castiel as if they were arrows unable to penetrate his armor. They were just words, meaningless and unnecessary, not to mention false. Still, Castiel smiled back at her, playing his part as teacher’s pet. A role he detested, but was certain helped with at least thirty percent of his grade.

The bell rang and students began to trickle into class. Mrs. Wellsh smiled once more at Castiel, proceeding to then prepare for the days lesson.

Castiel was a mess of anxiety, when his final class ended. He had picked the skin off of each knuckle on his left hand until the back of his hand was painted in a dripping, bright blood red. His head was about to explode and he wanted nothing more than to crawl out of his skin. Castiel was desperate for a high. He ran out of school and continued running until he reached a gas station. He swayed on his feet and black dots clouded the edges of his vision. He needed to rest. He leaned against the dirty brick wall of the gas station, sinking to the ground. He pulled a couple of Xanax out of his bag and swallowed them down with difficulty. His mouth and throat were so dry. After catching his breath, Castiel stood up slowly hand pressed to the wall to assure himself of his stability.

When he was certain he wouldn’t pass out, he walked into the gas station and bought a pack of cigarettes from a disinterested young lady, who didn’t even ask for ID. She smacked her sticky pink bubble gum as he paid, using the money Anna had given him for lunch.

When he had first started using his lunch money on cigarettes, guilt gnawed at him day and night. Anna had trusted him with this money so he could have a nice lunch. How could he throw it away on the inevitable cancer he was sure to receive? Eventually, the guilt ebbed, giving way to the ever-growing pit in Castiel’s heart, as he rationalised with himself that he _was_ getting something nice for lunch. He just wasn’t buying anything healthy or nutritious.

He decided not to smoke on his walk home in case Anna was home and caught the scent on him. Besides, the light, grey mist of a high was already starting to set in. He didn’t need to waste a smoke when he was already feeling himself relax and succumb to the tranquility of his medication.

The walk home seemed to take forever and no time at all. Castiel cautiously approached his front door, the way one might approach a wild dog as if it might bight. He unlocked the door and slowly crossed the threshold, unsure of what to expect.

“Hello?” Castiel’s voice echoed around the large entryway, “Anna? Are you currently home?”

No answer.

Castiel’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion as he padded into the kitchen to get a glass of water. His movements were slow and cumbersome as if he were moving through a lake. Castiel finished his water and was just about to head up to his room when a flash of white caught his eye. On the kitchen table was a note from Anna.

**Castiel,**

**I had to cover Rachel’s shift at work, it was an emergency. I’m sorry. I’ve left enough money for you to buy a pizza or something else if you want, so I hope you’re not too mad at me. I’ll be back shortly after eleven.**

**Love, Anna xxx**

Castiel smirked, pocketing the twenty-five bucks his sister had left him. He felt his mood lighten at the thought of not having to tiptoe around Anna and her watchful eye. Now, he could just collapse into bed without food for the next fourteen hours without worrying his sister.

Castiel was eager to lose consciousness. He shut his eyes and let the tendrils of the dream world caress his mind as he fell into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticism and feedback are very much appreciated :) [my tumblr](http://deanandcastielwinchester.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

It had become fairly easy for Castiel to form a routine, during the next few days. His alarm clock would go off, then Anna would come to his room ten minutes later to chase him out of bed. He’d get ready for school, and run out of the house before Anna could finish making him breakfast. Twice, Castiel ate an apple on his walks to school, so as to maintain his strength. He loathed how weak he was, how dependent on food his body was. The first day, he only ate half of the apple before tossing it in the grass. He’d felt light-headed the entire day, he begrudgingly ate the entire apple the next time.

School would go by in a blur of isolation and boredom. Castiel continued to spend his lunch period surrounded by the discarded rubbish around the side of the school. It was much quieter than anywhere in the school, including the library, proving to be an acceptable spot to complete his necessary assignments. No one ever bothered him and he reveled in the complete lack of social interaction.

After school, Castiel would take the longer path back to his house, for the added exercise. Once home, Castiel would strip out of his slightly sweaty clothing to take a long, hot shower. He would let the scalding water pour over him, washing away all the anxieties he’d been harbouring that day. The heat burnt his skin, temporarily leaving angry red marks, but Castiel liked the pain. It kept him grounded. It kept him sane or, as sane as he could ever hope to be.

Castiel was broken. He knew it better than anyone. The sadness that invaded his every thought and action was becoming more potent with each passing day. It was overwhelming and nearly impossible to escape. The only repose Castiel got from his mental and physical exhaustion was sleep. He’d sleep immediately after his shower until his alarm woke him up at seven the next morning. Castiel was getting thirteen hours of sleep on a regular basis, yet he was constantly waking up exhausted. He supposed being tired was just one of the many perks of being sad all the time, so when Castiel woke up Friday morning he wasn’t surprised at the painful aching desire to continue sleeping. It was just another day. Nothing special.

He followed his routine robotically, barely aware of his actions. Castiel felt distant, as if he were watching someone else complete his menial tasks. He went to his classes, copied down notes and before he knew it, it was lunch time and he was being pushed along in a current of chatty high school students.

It was all too much to handle, all the kids his age laughing loudly, shoving each other. He needed to get away from the crushing crowd. Castiel ducked into the boys’ toilets to find it blissfully empty. He let out a breath and listened to the obnoxious voices of his peers pass by.

Castiel glanced nervously at his reflection. He looked as tired as he felt. Slowly, Castiel turned the cold water tap as far as it would go. He waited a few seconds before leaning over the sink and splashing the freezing water over his face. It was a shock and he felt himself wake up a bit more. He splashed more and more water on himself until his fingers were numb from the prolonged exposure to the cold.

He turned the tap off and wiped his hands on his jeans only to find them already sopping wet. He smirked as he took in the puddle he was now standing in as well as his drenched sweater and trousers. The hair surrounding his face was damp and plastered to his forehead. He felt like a mess.

His sneakers squeaked as he made his way over to the hand dryer. He pushed the button and positioned himself so his lower half was directly underneath the heat. Castiel relished the hot air that danced deliciously over his body. It was as if he were being encompassed in a large blanket. The warmth seeped into his bones and he was reminded of his mother.  His smirked morphed into a pained expression as he recalled the safety of his mother’s embrace. His mother’s hugs had always made him feel better after a tough day. He could have really used those hugs these past few years.

His eyes began to prickle as the tears welled up. Castiel quickly blinked and swiped at his face, when he heard the door open, stepping away from the hand dryer.

“Castiel! It’s been a while,” Castiel froze at the familiar English accent. No. This couldn’t be happening. He’d been so good in managing to avoid him all week.

Castiel turned to look at the new comer, his body rigid and his face carefully devoid of emotion, “Crowley,” Castiel greeted.

“How was your summer?” Crowley leered.

Castiel frowned slightly. Was Crowley really bothering with such pleasantries? Castiel suddenly felt very wary of the other boy as he replied, “It was acceptable.”

“I’m sure it was,” Crowley’s voice was unmistakably sardonic.

“I’m not sure I understand your intentions with this interaction,” Castiel said, tilting his head to the side in confusion. This wasn’t quite how things usually went with them.

“Of course you don’t. You’re so bloody innocent and naïve. It’s adorable really,” Crowley sneered, “You see, I’m willing to bet you spent your summer all alone bathing in self-loathing. I know you, Castiel. You’re sad and pathetic, but that works for me,” Crowley took a few steps towards Castiel, completely disregarding personal space. Castiel swallowed audibly as he realised where this conversation was leading towards, “You’re week and easy to manipulate. You also have no social life, which makes you perfect for keeping secrets.”

Castiel couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. He wanted to escape. Why did Crowley have to choose him? He was nothing special, but that was the point.

Crowley’s breath brushed across Castiel’s face, making him shiver in revulsion. Crowley drew closer, reading the shiver as a reaction akin to desire. Castiel flinched as lips pressed against his, the smaller boy pinning him against the wall next to the urinals. Crowley’s tongue shoved its way into Castiel’s mouth, not taking no for an answer. Castiel wanted to gag, but instead he kissed back. As disgusting as the situation was, at least Crowley wanted him. In the end, Castiel didn’t deserve a perfect romance; he didn’t deserve soft, sweet kisses with someone he loved.  Hell, he didn’t even deserve an unwanted make out session in the boys’ toilets. Castiel was worthless and if a wealthy, attractive, closeted, homophobic boy wanted to kiss him, Castiel couldn’t argue.

Crowley gripped Castiel’s hair, tugging harder than Castiel was comfortable with, as his tongue continued to explore Castiel’s mouth. The sound of their tongues tangling filled the room and Castiel thought he might be sick. He wanted to cry about how utterly _wrong_ this situation was.

He was just reaching his breaking point when a voice grew closer to the door.

“Okay, see you later, Sammy.”

Crowley broke away from Castiel and gave him a dark look, “Not a word, you faggot,” he commanded before he strode through the doors.

Castiel closed his eyes and sunk to the floor, wiping a hand over his mouth. He could still taste Crowley and he hated it. He leant his head back against the wall, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Are you okay?”

Castiel’s eyes snapped open in shock. He’d thought he’d been alone. Why was he so _stupid_? His eyes were blurry from the oncoming tears. He rubbed at his eyes roughly before he found himself staring up at Dean Winchester.

“Um, Castiel? You okay?” Dean repeated when Castiel didn’t answer. His green eyes were clouded with worry, but all Castiel could do was nod dumbly because Dean Winchester was talking to him. Dean Winchester knew his name! The most beautiful boy at school was actually talking to him. Castiel was unconvinced that he wasn’t, in fact, dreaming. He’d certainly never had dreams like this before. His dreams usually featured his dying mother or some other anxiety inducing horror.

“Are you sure, because you kinda looked like you wanted to cut your tongue out a moment ago.” Dean continued to look worried, as he held out a hand to Castiel to help him up.

It took several seconds for Castiel’s brain to register what was happening. When he finally understood Dean’s actions he blushed, taking the proffered hand and allowing Dean pulled him up.

“Really, I’m fine,” Castiel insisted, producing a shaky smile.

“Was it Crowley? I saw him leave as I came in. Was he giving you a hard time?” Dean still hadn’t let go of Castiel’s hand and Castiel was finding it increasingly difficult to think being in such close proximity to Dean.

“You know that piece of shit is just a pretentious douchebag, right? Just ignore everything he says,” Dean was staring intently into Castiel’s eyes and all of a sudden it felt suffocating.

He withdrew his hand from Dean’s loose grasp and turned on his heels, marching for the door, “I said I was fine,” Castiel called coldly over his shoulder as he left a surprised Dean alone in the toilets.

There were fifteen minutes until class started. Instead of arriving early as he usually did, Castiel ran out of the school, ignoring the chastising shouts of his teachers. He made his way over to his rubbish pile and took out his pack of cigarettes. There was a tremor running through his body and he dropped his pack. Cursing he picked it up, dusting off the dirt, and took out a cigarette with unsteady fingers. He desperately tried to light it. It took several attempts, but eventually Castiel managed to get it working. He inhaled deeply holding his breath, then let the smoke out through his nose.

His mind was a mess, unorganised and scattered, much like the spot where he was sat. He couldn’t process what had happened. It appeared Crowley still wanted to use him as a means to get his homosexual tendencies out of his system, or that had been his explanation the previous year. Castiel had hoped Crowley would have forgotten him, but Castiel was never much one for being lucky. He’d just have to work on his invisibility if he wanted to avoid any more encounters with the English boy.

Then there was Dean. He really was the most beautiful person Castiel had ever seen. His earnest concern for Castiel had been completely unexpected. As far as Castiel knew, they’d had no classes together the entirety of their high school experience. There was no reason for Dean to know who he was, yet he did. It was terribly unnerving.

As overwhelming as all of that was, one thing unsettled Castiel the most: Dean’s eyes.  His gaze had been unwavering and Castiel felt like he’d been falling into the depths of that gorgeous green to a place where there was no turning back. Castiel tried to shake the thoughts from his head by taking another, deeper drag from his cigarette. He continued this way until he heard the bell signalling the end of lunch ring.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean’s first week back at school had been going by smoothly. Everyone greeted him as he walked through the halls, his classes weren’t very difficult. Things were good.

The only complaint Dean had was that it was nearly impossible to talk to Castiel Milton. He hadn’t seen him walking to school since that first day and he was never anywhere to be found at lunch time. If it wasn’t for the class they shared, Dean would have continued to be completely oblivious to his presence at school.

Dean had asked around for more information on Castiel, but no one knew who Dean was referring to. That knowledge made Dean’s heart ache. How lonely it must be to remain unnoticed by the large majority of the school populace. What did Castiel do in his free time? Did he have any friends? Dean wanted to be his friend. He knew that as easily as he knew he’d always look out for his brother. What he didn’t know was whether or not Castiel would reciprocate this desire to be his friend. The way Castiel managed to stay below the radar suggested otherwise, but Dean wasn’t about to give up.

That Friday, Dean had tried to catch Castiel before he left their history class, but Mrs. Tanner had called Dean over to discuss how he was doing so far in the semester. As kind as she was, Dean really disliked her in that moment. He went through the rest of his classes resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be seeing Castiel until Monday.

When the lunch bell rang, Dean made his way to his locker with Lisa Braeden in tow. Lisa had been flirting with him every second they were together for the past week. Normally Dean would have relished the attention, instead he felt annoyed and frustrated at her for not leaving him alone for more than five seconds. He knew he should have cared that she wanted him. She was hot and everyone knew it, including her. She was the kind of girl every guy wanted to hook up with, so they could regale other guys with the story of their sexual encounters, in the hopes of making others jealous. Dean knew he should want that, but he didn’t.

Every time he looked at her, he couldn’t help but notice her hair was the wrong shade of brown, her skin wasn’t pale enough and her eyes were unexceptionally brown. He hated himself for thinking these things. If his father ever found out, Dean would be in so much trouble. As ridiculous as it was, Dean wanted to impress his dad. He wanted to be someone his father could be proud of, so whatever feelings he harboured for the Milton boy that were more than platonic would have to be smothered and forgotten.

Lisa was babbling incessantly about something or other while Dean tried his hardest to find an escape. He spotted Sam talking to some other nerdy guy. Dean thought that maybe things were turning around for him. Dean cheerfully excused himself from Lisa and headed over to his brother, smiling.

“Sammy!” Dean boomed clapping him on the back.

“It’s Sam!” Sam insisted, presenting Dean with one of his many bitch faces.

“Right, so whatcha doin’” Dean asked relieved to be free of Lisa.

“Going to the library to work, why?” Sam was giving his brother a strange look.

“Aw, come on! Can’t I say hello to my little brother?”

“No one said you couldn’t. You’re just acting weird is all,” Sam explained.

“I’m not acting weird. What are you talking about, Sam?” Dean spotted Lisa watching him, where he left her. She smiled at him. Shit! She was waiting for him, “Okay, see you later, Sammy,” Dean called as he attempted another escape to the boys’ toilets.

Sam just watched him with that strange look on his face, as if Dean were one of the world’s greatest enigmas.

Just as Dean was about to push the door, it swung open revealing a temperamental Crowley. Dean shrugged and walked through the door before it shut, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his foul mood.

He began to make his way to the sinks, when he heard a sniffle. He looked down and recognised the distinct mop of sex hair. Castiel was huddled on the floor crying. He felt his heart stop. A million possibilities ran through Dean’s mind as to what had happened to make him so upset. Each thought was worse than the other. Dean was slightly panicking when he asked Castiel if he was all right.

The whole interaction was surreal. One second he’s helping Castiel get to his feet, getting lost in the sea of blue made bluer by his tears, the next second Castiel’s storming out of the toilets. Dean couldn’t really remember saying anything offensive, but he could barely remember anything. His mind was left at sea and he had a feeling it would probably be staying there for a long time.

Dean waited a little longer before leaving. He was still mulling over Castiel’s dramatic exit. He hoped Castiel was okay. He always seemed fine in class, but if anyone should know what an easy game deceit was to play, it would be Dean. He had quite the talent for keeping his family life private. Only Jo and Ash knew his mother was dead and that his dad wasn’t around much. That was the most anyone knew about him, and they didn’t even know the whole truth. They didn’t know Dean’s father was an alcoholic. They didn’t know he would beat Dean whenever things didn’t work out perfectly. They didn’t know a lot and if Dean had his way, they’d never find out.

Thankfully Lisa was gone, when Dean entered the hallway. He didn’t think he could pretend to be interested in another thing she said for a very long time. Hopefully, she would find someone who was actually interested in her to flirt with.

He was feeling confused and distressed over Castiel’s behaviour. With the added stress of Castiel, Dean had had too much to deal with, he needed a break. He decided to skip the rest of his classes in favour of going for a drive in his baby. If Dean’s life was a movie, his soundtrack would be comprised of the roar of his Impala’s engine and the heavy guitar of a classic rock ballad. It captured his essence so completely, he realised this was all anyone really needed to know about him.

He drove for hours just relaxing and enjoying himself before he returned to school to pick up Sam. His brother came out at exactly 3:30pm, the ever punctual nerd. Dean had hoped to catch sight of Castiel at least once more, but again Castiel proved to be quite skilled in eluding him and everyone else.

Ignoring the punch of disappointment in his gut, he headed back home. The ride was more or less quiet. The closer to home they got, the tenser Sam got. Dean wished he could relieve the tension that thickly clouded the air between his brother and his father, but it seemed to be a lost cause.

When they arrived home, they were bombarded with the stench of alcohol. It was worse than Dean had ever experienced. As they explored the house a bit more Dean and Sam found a shocking amount of empty bottles as well as some spilt whisky and vodka on the carpet. The house was a mess. How could their father have destroyed the house so badly in only six hours?

They split up to look for their troublesome father. After only a few seconds, Sam’s voice called for Dean in the kitchen. On the kitchen island surrounded by empty liquor bottles was a stack of money. That usually indicated that John had gone on a job, but the amount was much more than they were used to.

“Do you think this means he’ll be gone for a lot longer?” Sam asked; hope creeping into his voice unabashedly.

“I don’t know,” Dean replied, but for once he was hoping with Sam. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter sucks. I've been really sick.  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

Nothing was different. Not really. Dean still had to take care of Sam. He still had to make sure they were never hungry, but there was a sense of freedom that had been long since abandoned when their mother had died. The whole house seemed lighter with the knowledge of John’s prolonged absence. Sam was smiling a bit more, which made Dean full out grin.

It took the entire weekend to clean up the wreckage left over from their father’s departure. It was not uncommon for their father to leave a mess in his wake. Granted it was never quite as bad as this, but it still wasn’t anything to worry about. John would always go overboard with the alcohol consumption before he’d leave. The longer he was planning to leave for, the more he drank and the bigger the mess.

Considering the amount of destruction, Dean began to wonder if their father was even going to return. The sudden doubt and realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. The responsibility and abandonment was crushing, leaving him breathless, gasping for air.

Sam, studying at the kitchen table, looked up concern written all over his face, “Dean? You okay?”

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean replied steadily, “Just tired. We should both probably be getting to bed. You know, with school and all tomorrow.”

Sam’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, but he didn’t argue, to Dean’s relief.

Dean didn’t move until he heard Sam brushing his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. He let out a heavy sigh, glancing at the digital clock on the oven. 8:09pm. Well fuck. No wonder Sam had looked so confused. It was pretty early to be going to bed. Dean was just thankful he had such an awesome little brother that trusted him enough not to question him.

Dean was just exiting the kitchen when a bottle of whiskey caught his eye. It was three-quarters of the way full. He was overcome with the intense desire to lose himself in that bottle. He knew he shouldn’t. He _knew_ he would end up like John if started drinking his problems away, but the bottle and the amber liquid inside promised something he couldn’t refuse.

The sound of the floorboards creaking upstairs made Dean freeze. He couldn’t let Sam find out. Sam would be furious, or worse: hurt. The thought of Dean doing something to hurt his brother filled him with sorrow, but that sorrow quickly evaporated when he heard his brother’s bedroom door shut. Moving quickly, Dean swiped the bottle of Jack from the counter and bounded up to him room, turning off lights as he went.

“’Night, Sammy,” Dean called as he passed Sam’s room. The light was still on; he was probably going to read until it got late enough to actually sleep.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Sam’s muffled yell was barely heard as Dean locked himself in his room.

In the dark of his room, Dean made his way over to his bed, clutching the bottle of whiskey to his chest. He sat with his back against the wall, as he unscrewed the cap. His face screwed up as the scent hit his nose. He wasn’t new to alcohol, far from it, in fact. He had gone to parties and gotten drunk like everyone else, but this was different. This wasn’t drinking to have fun and relax; this was drinking to run away from his problems. This was self-medication, something he knew better than to indulge in, from experience with his father.

His father who had left Dean to not only raise himself, but little Sammy as well. His father, who despite being a terrible parent, was the only person he grew up to idolise. His father who Dean had to clean up after, fix his mistakes, make sure he ate, make sure he was _alive_. Dean was tired of having to deal with all the shit his dad threw at him his whole life. So fucking tired. He needed a break.

 _Fuck it_ , Dean thought as he took a long swig of whiskey, graciously accepting the burn, and everything it represented.

By the time Dean had drank almost half of the liquid, his head was spinning and his body felt simultaneously light and heavy. All overwhelming thoughts of obligation and rejection were shoved to the far corners of his mind, pushing other repressed ideas to the forefront of his mind. Like Castiel.

Dean’s smile was wide and dopey as he thought about his classmate. He had such nice eyes, and a nice nose, and nice skin, and _really_ nice hair, and nice lips. Dean could just imagine those chapped lips pressed softly against his own, dark stubble rubbing against his face. Castiel’s moans would be deep and gravelly, more beautiful than his regular voice, Dean decided. Their kisses would slowly morph from chaste and sweet into a desperate clash of teeth and tongue. He could imagine those lips kissing a trail down his body before they wrapped tightly around his cock as those deep blue eyes stared intently into Dean’s own green eyes, tongue swirling over his slit.

Dean was completely lost to his musings. He forgot he was supposed to be the perfect straight boy his father always wanted him to be, and he just let go. His father most likely wasn’t coming back, so there was no reason to lie to himself and others. He liked boys. It was a simple fact and anyone who didn’t like it could fuck right-the-hell off.

Of course, Dean felt differently when he woke up the next morning. His mouth tasted awful and felt all fuzzy, and he was fairly certain his head was seconds away from exploding. It didn’t help that Sam was stomping around making every single noise possible as he got ready for school.

“Dean! What the hell! We’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on!” Sam yelled.

Dean cringed and hid under the covers. He was dying. He had to be. What was he thinking last night? He’d meant it as a rhetorical question, but his mind helpfully supplied him with the fantasies he had created about Castiel. He was going to be sick.

He darted to the bathroom, just making it in time as he emptied his stomach into the porcelain bowl of the toilet.

“Are you okay?” Sam’s nervous voice drifted from the doorway.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a stomach bug,” Dean tried to smile, but he felt like he was going to puke again, “Just let me shower then we can go to school.”

“Uh unh.  No way, Dean. You’re sick! I’ll just walk. No big deal.”

“Sammy, seriously. I’ll be fine, just give me two seconds.”

“Nope. Bye! See you later!” Sam chirped, dashing down the stairs and out the door.

“Bitch,” Dean muttered before passing out on the floor.

It was several hours later when Dean woke up. The acidic taste of vomit was still fresh in his mouth. Wincing he got up, flushing the toilet, proceeding to brush his teeth and use a liberal amount of mouthwash. When that was done, Dean stripped and hopped into the shower, letting a cool spray of water wake and freshen him up.

He used this time to think, as he massaged shampoo into his hair. He didn’t regret drinking last night. He was actually kind of glad he had, because he had been free to think how he had wanted, without carrying the guilt of being a disappointment as a son. He liked Castiel. That much was clear, but the other boy didn’t seem interested in him in the slightest. He’d actually seemed quite opposed to Dean’s presence. Maybe if he revealed his interest, Castiel would give him a chance. It was worth a shot in any case. Besides, if Castiel continued to refuse him, Lisa Braeden was always available.

 

Not long after his shower, having hidden the evidence of his drunken night, which he had had enough sense to recap before falling asleep, Sam came home. He was grinning from ear to ear, dimples prominent on his cheeks.

“Good day at school?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Sam tried for nonchalance and failed.

“This good mood wouldn’t have to do with that girl, would it?” Dean raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Seriously, Dean, Jess’s just a friend,” Sam scowled.

“Okay, sure, whatever you say,” Dean smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender, “So why are you so happy?”

“I made a new friend,” Sam beamed before flushing bright scarlet, “and Jess invited me over Friday night to watch movies and stuff.” This last part was said in a rushed mumble, but Dean still heard.

“Aha! I knew it!” Dean crowed patting his brother on the back, “The Winchester charm strikes again!”

“Shut up, Jerk, and don’t get so close to me, I don’t want to get sick too!” Sam pouted before stalking off into the kitchen to start his homework. What a nerd.

Chuckling, Dean followed, opening the fridge to find something good for him and Sam to eat.

“Whatcha want to eat, Sammy?”

“I swear to God, if you touch my food, I will kill you,” Sam threatened.

“Oh, come on. I’m sure if I got you sick, Jess would take care of you. I’m sure she’d make a very sexy nurse,” Dean winked.

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam shrieked, completely scandalised.

Dean just began laughing unable to stop.

 “Go away; I’m trying to do homework.”

Dean just laughed harder as he went up to his room, snatching a sandwich on his way.

 

The following days at school did not go as planned. Dean wanted to catch Castiel after class and maybe ask him out, but his resolve quickly crumbled as he took in the beautiful boy a few desks away. Someone like Castiel would never go for someone like Dean. Hell, he wasn’t even sure Castiel was _gay_. For all he knew, Castiel was completely straight and would laugh in Dean’s face when he let his interest known. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t deal with the humiliation. That didn’t stop him from beating himself up every day because of his cowardice. He didn’t know that that was how Castiel was going to act for sure, right?

By the end of the week, Dean’s nerves were fried. He’d managed to talk himself out of the idea of Castiel. He didn’t need him. What he needed was a beer or seven and maybe some weed. Sam was going to be out all night, so why not take advantage of an empty house.

“Ash! Jo!” Dean called as everyone cleared to hallways, heading home.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Ash asked warmly, putting  his science textbook in his locker.

“You guys wanna come over tonight? I feel like getting fucked up and Sammy’s gonna be out, so…” Dean trailed off, letting the offer hang open.

“Dude, I’m so there!” Ash replied immediately, “Let’s get our party on!”

Jo rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation at her friend, but she had a fond smile on her face as she said, “I’m in.”

“Awesome. Just come over whenever. Bring whatever you want. Ash, man, I’m counting on you.” Dean pointed at his friend.

“No problemo. I’ve got plenty to go around.”

“Great. See you guys.” Dean waved as he headed to his baby.

 

Quarter to eight brought Jo, Ash and a ton of weed.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. You really do have enough to go around,” Dean grinned, anticipating the high. Ash just shrugged smugly.

They made their way into the den. Dean’s arms were full of various bottles of alcohol, as were Jo’s. They sat in a circle, spreading the haul out in front of themselves. Jo immediately grabbed a bottle of peach schnapps, while Dean and Ash went about rolling their joints.

Conversation flowed freely and joke after joke were thrown around. Dean was feeling the effects of the weed and booze, and he loved it. He loved being like this, so relaxed with his friends, laughing about nothing. Everything was great and nothing was wrong.

“So,” Jo sighed, head in Dean’s lap and feet in Ash’s, “Lisa Braeden seems pretty into you.”

Dean made a noncommittal noise.

“She’s pretty hot. Are you gonna go for it?” Jo pried.

“Nah, I don’ thinkso,” Dean slurred. He was probably the most inebriated of the group as well as the most loosely lipped, “’m into some’ne else.”

“Oh, man. Who is it? She hot?” Ash demanded.

“The hottest,” Dean smiled slightly.

“But who is she?” Jo wiggled around so she could look directly into Dean’s eyes.

“Castiel.” _Oh fuck._ Dean was aware enough that he knew he’d just revealed his biggest secret to his friends. He watched his friend’s reactions silently. Ash looked confused, as if he were trying to match a face to the name, but Jo’s eyes were wide with surprise.

“Castiel? As in that nerdy little dude in your history class?”

Dean nodded.

“Dean, you didn’t even know who he was until a couple weeks ago,” Jo reasoned.

“I know, but he’s different, n’ so, so hot!” He sighed contentedly. So, Jo didn’t care that he liked a guy. That was nice.

“Hey, I know that kid! He’s fucking smart as hell,” Ash rejoined the conversation.

Ash was cool with it, too.

“So, you gonna ask him out?” Jo inquired.

“Nah! He wouldn’ wanna go out with me. ‘Sides, he’s probably straight,” Dean took a slow drag from his joint.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Jo smirked.

“Really?” Dean couldn’t hide the hope that was so evident in his voice. To Dean’s surprise Ash nodded.

“Yeah, I heard some rumours about him sucking cock in the boys’ toilets. Not sure if it’s true, but…” Ash shrugged.

Dean’s eyebrows drew together as he processed that. He didn’t particularly like the image Ash had just conjured up for him, but maybe that explained why Castiel was so upset the other day.

“You should ask him out,” Jo insisted, punching him in the arm.

“Owww                ! Joanna Beth Harvelle, _you_ ’re gonna be single f’r life if you abusive all boys theway y’abuse me,” Dean howled, before attacking Jo with tickles. Ash joined in when he was done laughing at the noises Jo was making. They had their fun and two bruised boys and an angry Jo later, they continued to smoke and drink more until they all passed out. All thoughts of Castiel were forgotten.

 

The rest of the weekend went by in a boring blur. Sam had come home Saturday in time for lunch, and, _of course_ , the kid hadn’t even tried to make a move on his friend the entire time he’d been with her. If Sam didn’t man up and kiss her or something, she was going to think the younger Winchester was the gay one, something Dean teased his little brother relentlessly about.

“I don’t see you with any girls, so you can’t talk,” Sam had argued to which Dean silently agreed.

Sunday afternoon, Sam asked Dean to take him to the library so he could borrow some lame book or whatever. As much as Dean just wanted to lie around watching T.V. and moping about his love life, or lack thereof, he could never deny his little brother anything. So, that’s how he found himself sat outside of the library in his Impala while Sam checked out some book about Faulty Stars or some shit like that.

When Sam returned he began explaining what the book was about–teenage cancer patients falling in love−but Dean wasn’t listening. He was too distracted by a mop of dark hair heading towards a gas station. He couldn’t tell from this distance, but it looked like Castiel.

“Jess really loved this book. She said it made her cry. I hope it’s not too sad, but it’s John Green, so I suppose it will be pretty sad. I have read _Looking for Alaska_ and that one didn’t seem too bad at the beginning but then…” Sam kept rambling about books and Jess and books Jess liked and disliked as Dean pulled up to the gas pump. He didn’t really need gas, but he needed to see if that hair belonged to who he thought it did. He took his time as he went about filling his baby up. As the boy walked into the gas station, Dean couldn’t see his face because his head was down, buried in the folds of a trench coat.

When Dean was finished with his Impala, he entered the gas station’s little building to pay for his fill up and caught sight of the trench coat boy stashing something in his pocket and turning away from the cashier. It was him! It was Castiel! He hadn’t quite caught sight of Dean yet as he made his way to the door. Dean panicked. Should he say ‘hi’ or just ignore him? What if he said something stupid? He made a split second decision and walked down an aisle full of junk food before rushing to the cashier and quickly paying.

 _It’s now or never_ , Dean thought as he pushed open the door, determined to talk to Castiel. He looked around, but didn’t see the boy. Hunching over in disappointment he walked over to his car, kicking pebbles as he went.

At the sound of voices coming from his car, Dean looked up and froze. Castiel was there, _right there_ , talking to Sam of all people.

Sam was gesturing to the blue book in his hands and Castiel was looking down at him with a patient smile lighting up his face. It was only a slight quirk of his lips, but Dean was sure it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Dean was snapped out of his reverie by Sam waving his arm in Dean’s direction. He took this as his cue to approach the pair.

When Castiel looked up at Dean, his eyes widened almost comically. Dean would have thought it funny, if Castiel didn’t look so uncomfortable in his presence.

“What’s going on here?” Dean tried to sound as cheerful as ever, but Castiel’s reaction had hit him hard.

“This is Castiel,” Sam said, accurately portraying cheerful.

“I know that. We have classes together,” _Just one and we never talk_ “I just didn’t realise you two knew each other.”

Sam’s forehead furrowed in confusion, “I thought I told you Monday. I made a friend.”

Ah. He remembered now. He’d been too busy teasing his brother about girls to ask questions about this so-called friend.

“My apologies. I did not realise you were brothers. Goodbye, Sam,” Castiel muttered before turning away.

Sam gave Dean a bitch face that seemed to say _what did you do? Fix it!_

Dean just shook his head, equally bewildered. What _had_ he done? Besides trying to help him when he’d been down. Dean had a million questions he wanted answers to and he wanted them now. He took off on a jog following Castiel.

“Hey! Castiel! Castiel, wait. _Cas_!” Dean caught up to the other boy, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“What did you just call me?” Castiel’s eyebrows knit together and his head tilted to the side. Dean had to stifle a smile with his hand as he took in what had to be the most adorable expression he had ever seen.

 _Shit!_ Castiel had asked him something, “Uh, what?” _Smooth, Dean, real smooth._

“You called me ‘Cas’”

“Did I? Oh sorry, man. If you don’t like it, I’ll just keep calling you Castiel, ‘kay?”

“Is there a reason you have your hand on me?” Castiel ignored Dean’s question, staring pointedly at the hand perched on his shoulder.

“Did I do something?” Dean mirrored Castiel’s question for a question technique.

“What do you mean?” Another question.

“Have I done something to offend you? Because every time I try to talk to you, you run away.”

“Why are you trying to talk to me?”

 _Now or never,_ he reminded himself, “’Cause,” _deep breath_ , “I like you,” Dean blurted, removing his hand from Cas to rub his neck awkwardly. He shifted his eyes slightly to the right of Castiel to avoid the look of disgust he was sure to receive.

Cas didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at Dean, disbelief painting his features.

Dean took another deep breath before repeating himself, “I really like you, Cas. I’ve been wanting to ask you out, but, you know.” It was clear Castiel had no idea what he was talking about, but Dean let it go. Even he wasn’t sure what he was really saying.

“You’re straight,” Castiel finally said.

“Um, not so much,” Dean revealed.

Cas still looked unsure. Sighing, Dean took the other’s hand in his, ignoring the way he flinched when their hands connected, “I’m not messing around, Cas. Trust me.”

Silence filled the air between them and Dean found himself getting lost in those damn blue eyes again.

“Can I at least give you a ride home?” Dean released his hold on Castiel and immediately missed the touch.

Castiel hesitated before nodding, following Dean to his car.

“Backseat, kiddo,” Dean told Sam as Cas came around to the passenger’s side.

Sam wasted no time, glad to have his new friend riding with them. Dean was glad too, because even if he’d been rejected, he’d made some progress and that was worth everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this chapter because of my terrible health, but hopefully it's not complete rubbish.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this gets pretty triggering.

The panic was escalating to a near crippling intensity. Castiel pulled his blanket over his head as he curled up into a tight ball, breaths coming out in quick, shallow puffs.

Dean Winchester liked him. 

The idea was ludicrous. It was insane. It was a lie, it had to be. It was the only logical explanation. Dean was playing some sort or cruel joke on him. Dean was as straight as they came. He'd even slept with at least half the girls in school. He was notorious for his heterosexuality.

Besides, no one in their right mind would want Castiel. At least, not in the way he wanted them to want him. Crowley used him for his body. He was just an outlet for Crowley to release his repressed urges. Nothing more. 

Castiel was nothing but a worthless waste of space. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve anything, really. That knowledge hadn’t stopped his heart from stupidly beating faster in excitement at Dean's confession. Or his stomach from filling with ridiculous butterflies as he had rode shotgun in Dean's 1967 Chevrolet Impala.

He blamed Sam for all of this. If the freshman hadn't been walking to school at the same time as him, they would never have started talking, and they wouldn't have gotten to like one another, resulting in Sam calling him over to say ‘hi’ outside of that gas station. Why did Sam have to be so damn friendly?

Castiel should have walked faster or taken a longer route as soon as he had heard the sound of shoes slapping the pavement behind him. Instead, he had paused and looked behind him seeing a young boy with brown hair flopping in front of his eyes.

“Hi!” The boy had bounded towards Castiel.

“Hello,” Castiel had said, eyeing the other boy warily while tugging the earphones out of his ears and wrapping them around his iPod.

“Are you on your way to school, too?” The boy gestured at the backpack slung over Castiel’s shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Cool. I’m Sam,” Sam presented his hand for Castiel to shake.

“Castiel,” The reply came out tentatively as he shook Sam’s hand.

“Wanna walk together? I normally get a ride to school with my brother, but he’s sick today. It’s kinda lonely walking alone.”

 _I like being alone_ , Castiel thought, though he agreed nonetheless.

Walking with Sam had been a completely different experience. His exuberance was palpable as he talked about his classes and teachers. Castiel didn’t contribute much to their conversations, but Sam didn’t seem to mind, he just seemed glad for the company.

Though Castiel had been reluctant to share his quiet walk with a stranger, he had soon found himself unwilling to part from the younger boy. Sam’s kindness and buoyant attitude had lifted Castiel’s spirits, and he didn’t want them to crumble again as soon as he entered the school.

“Do you mind if I walk home with you after school?” Sam asked before heading to his first class, physics, if Castiel remembered correctly.

Castiel shook his head, smiling internally. He just had to get through six more hours, then he could walk home with his new companion.

 

He hadn’t paid much attention in his classes that day. Sure he had still taken notes, but they were just words being copied from blackboard to paper. More than once, Castiel considered leaving his classes and never coming back. He really couldn’t see much of a point to school. He would spend his whole life learning, only to end up six feet underground. Where was the logic in all of that?

Still, life went on. He had continued to follow his routine, staying as invisible as possible, avoiding anyone and everyone, until 3:30 came around. Castiel was more than a little embarrassed and disgusted with himself, when a tiny bubble of eagerness broke through his permanently depressed state of mind.

“Hey, Castiel!” Sam greeted animatedly.

“Hello, Sam.”

The walk home was equally as pleasant as the walk to school, if not more so, since Castiel was heading towards his home, his sanctuary. A place where he was not expected to do anything or be anyone he wasn’t. He briefly wondered if Sam felt the same way about going home, but decided against asking, since it seemed too personal.

 

The rest of Castiel’s week hadn’t gone by as smoothly as that first day with Sam. He hadn’t seen Sam since Monday and his mood had plummeted drastically, especially when Crowley cornered him after school. Castiel was thankful Crowley didn’t force him to do anything more than kissing. Considering how low he’d been, he was scared to think of what he would have done to himself if Crowley had made him go down on his knees.

His weekend had been spent in a less than memorable blur of amphetamines and hunger. Anna had been busy at work all Friday and Saturday, as well as Sunday morning, leaving Castiel to lounge in his bed day after day. He lay on his back tracing patterns with his eyes on the stucco ceiling and listening to music. He didn’t move much except for slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Sometimes he’d skip forward a couple songs until he would find a song that accurately depicted the sadness he felt so completely.

He didn’t care if his weekend was nothing to brag about, it was the only way he knew how to survive.

He dozed on and off, until Anna came home Sunday afternoon.

“Come on, Castiel. You should go out and do something. Maybe go for a walk?” Anna had perched herself on the edge of Castiel’s bed and placed a pale hand on her brother denim clad leg.

Castiel grunted in disapproval. He didn’t want to move and he was nowhere near high enough to leave the house.

“I know I haven’t been around much these past couple of days, but I’d bet you haven’t left the house since you got home from school,” Anna tucked a stray lock of fiery red hair behind her ear, sighing in exasperation.

Castiel hadn’t wanted to upset his sister, so he sat up slowly. His back cracked as he straightened himself next to Anna.

She gave him a pleased smile before wrinkling her nose, “Geez, I’d also bet you haven’t showered since Friday,” Anna touched his hair briefly before pulling her hand away, grimacing. “Go take a shower, then get some fresh air. I’ll start on dinner. That way it will be ready by the time you get back.” Castiel hadn’t bothered to answer her. He just got up and headed towards their extravagant bathroom.

He had taken a quick shower then ran out the door, grabbing his trench coat, hair drying in all directions. He had just wanted to go back to bed and the sooner he left, the sooner he could be back wrapped in his blankets.

His plan had been to go buy a pack of cigarettes. He was running low anyway, so he figured he might as well make use of the stupid outing.

The nearest gas station was several blocks away. It would take at least twenty minutes to get there if Castiel wasted no time and took large steps. He decided to take the shortcut behind the library, to save time, and continued walking the last five minutes until he walked in, bell ringing, signalling his entrance, and paid for his smokes, tucking them in the pocket of his trench coat.

He was just about the light up outside when he heard a familiar, chipper voice call his name. He whipped his head around searching for the source of the sound. His eyes landed on a gorgeous black car. It had to have been a classic from the ‘60s or ‘70s. Castiel took in the sight of the beauty, before a hand waving in the passenger window caught his attention.

“Oh, hello, Sam,” Castiel’s cheeks turned slightly pink at being caught blatantly gawking, “This is quite a lovely car,” He explained, hoping Sam wouldn’t think he had been acting like a creep.

“You should tell that to my brother. He’s practically in love with her,” Sam pursed his lips as if the thought of his brother and the car annoyed him.

Castiel just smiled ever so slightly, “So, where is your brother, now?”

“Paying for the gas. I don’t even know why we came here; he just filled her up a few days ago. Sure, he drives her around a lot, but not nearly enough that she needs a refill. I don’t know, I mean we were at the library, maybe he just figured ‘why not?’ since we were so close.”

Castiel nodded, “What books did you get?”

Sam held up a blue book, replying, “Just one: _The Fault in Our Stars._ It’s Jess’s favourite, so I wanted to give it a shot. I made my brother drive me, because I really wanted to be able to talk about it with her as soon as possible.” When he’d mentioned his brother, Sam had waved a hand in the direction of the gas station’s building. That seemed to have acted like some sort of signal because, all of a sudden, Dean Winchester was approaching them somewhat hesitantly.

Castiel tried to excuse himself, but the next thing Castiel knew, Dean was telling him he liked him, and Castiel was agreeing to get a lift back home.

The ride could have been more awkward than it was. Dean had seemed surprisingly content as he drove, humming along to some classic rock song Castiel didn’t know. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music, bobbing his head. Dean seemed so comfortable, like driving in a car with his brother and Castiel was the most natural thing ever.

Cas had to admit he was strangely comfortable. The car smelt like leather and oil and something else he couldn’t quite place. The combination was probably one of Castiel’s favourite smell and he’d found himself foolishly hoping he’d get to ride in the Impala many times in the future.

The only words uttered were Castiel’s directions to his house. His voice cracked several times whenever he’d mutter a “Turn right, here,” or “Keep going straight.” Though the silence was not strained, Castiel found himself unable to sit still. It was all too much. _Dean_ was too much. He felt slightly trapped in the speeding car, his anxiety was growing. He was terrified he’d say something stupid or offensive.

In all honesty, Castiel wanted Dean to like him, but he was sure if Dean ever found out how broken he was, he’d leave Cas without a second thought.

When Dean pulled up in front of Castiel’s house he let out a low whistle, “Damn, Cas. Your house is fucking huge!”

Castiel didn’t know what to say to that without sounding like a spoiled brat. He kept his hatred of his house to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the car. “Thank you, Dean. Goodbye, Sam,” He threw over his shoulder, shutting the door carefully.

Cas wasted no time as he ran inside his house. He slammed the door shut behind him and peeked out of the window to see the Impala idling on his driveway. Sam was crawling back into the front seat, but Castiel barely noticed, he was watching Dean.

Dean had kept glancing towards Cas’s house with an expression Castiel could on perceive as disappointment. Castiel could not fathom why Dean was disappointed. He had seemed fine in the car and Castiel had thanked him for the ride, so there really was no reason for him to look so forlorn.

Castiel sighed loudly as he sank to the floor, back resting against the front door. His mind was a mess, made worse by the drugs he had taken early that morning. He needed a nap.

“Castiel, you okay?” Anna asked as she wiped her hands on her jeans. She’d clearly been cooking.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Castiel replied. He got off the floor and headed towards his room, avoiding Anna’s gaze.

“Who was that outside?” Of course Anna had noticed them.

“No one. Friends,” Castiel shrugged.

“Oh?” Anna tilted her head to the right inquisitively.

“Yes, they found me when I first started my walk. They were headed out for burgers and invited me. I said yes,” Castiel lied smoothly.

“See? I told you going out was a good idea!” Anna said brightly. After a beat, she continued, “I guess you’re probably full now from your burgers,” A nod from Castiel, “Oh well, more for me,” Anna grinned and made her way back to the kitchen where the smell of beans and toast was emanating from.

Castiel’s stomach lurched at the scent. _Just a little something wouldn’t be too bad,_ Castiel rationalised. His feet carried him towards the food before his brain kicked in. Groaning, he had run up the stairs and hid in his blankets. He was so fucked.

 

Maybe it wasn’t really Sam’s fault after all. Maybe it was Anna’s for making him leave the house, or maybe even Dean’s. Hadn’t Sam said Dean had been ill? That that was the reason for Sam walking alone? Castiel decided he liked the idea of blaming Dean.

His life had been going perfectly awful before Dean decided to get involved. He had been fine letting his heart be replaced by a giant gaping hole. He was used to it. He was used to feeling like crap about himself. It was predictable and constant. The sadness was always going to be there and Castiel took comfort in that. Ever since his mother had died, he couldn’t rely on much, but he had thought he could rely on this perpetual misery.

Stupid Dean Winchester with his stupid, green eyes and his stupid, perfect smile and his stupid, tanned skin, and muscular build. Stupid Dean Winchester and his confusing sexual orientation.

His words kept echoing in Castiel’s mind.

 _Um, not so much_.

What did that even mean?

His heart was going double time and he was feeling sort of sweaty. He didn’t know how to deal with this sort of situation. He knew how to deal with Crowley. Crowley took what he wanted and didn’t let Castiel protest. Cas knew a lost cause when he saw one, and negotiating with Crowley was never a good idea.

Castiel released another sigh. If sighs were currency, Castiel would be rich with the amount of sighing he did.

A soft knock on his door broke him out of his thoughts. He tugged his blanket tighter over his head and squeezed his eyes shut. If he couldn’t see Anna, maybe Anna couldn’t see him.

“Hey, what are you up to in here?”

“Sleeping,” Castiel mumbled in reply.

“Seriously, you’ve been sleeping all day. Are you sure you’re okay?” Concern filled her words.

Castiel pulled the sheets down to his stomach, “Yes, I’m quite all right. Just… being with my friends has exhausted me more than I had expected.”

Anna’s face lit up, “Yes, these friends. Tell me about them, what are their names?”

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” He might as well tell his sister some truths.

“Oh,” Anna’s face turned as bright a red as her hair.

“Oh? What do you mean ‘Oh’?” Castiel narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I-It’s nothing,” She stammered, making Castiel glare.

Anna sighed; sighing must run in the family, “Dean, he’s a huge flirt. He hits on anything with boobs,” Castiel frowned at this, “and well, I was one of those lucky girls. I was really into him, and even though he’s a year younger than me I still wanted him to fu−” Anna stopped, remembering she was talking to her brother, he cheeks flushed deeper still, “Anyway, we kissed once, then I graduated and I haven’t seen him since. I always got the feeling he wasn’t completely into me, though. Actually, that’s what I’ve heard a lot of girls say. They say he’s great in bed, but there is absolutely no connection between them. I don’t think he’s ever had a relationship that lasted more than a week.”

Cas just kept staring at his sister. All he could think was _Thank God they never had sex_. He’d known most of that stuff about Dean, anyway. It wasn’t that Dean was popular per se, but when you’re as attractive as Dean, people talk.

“Well, that’s fascinating, Anna. Why don’t you go reminisce in your own bedroom?” Castiel said dryly.

“Shut up, Castiel. We’re bonding right now. Just let it happen,” She shoved Castiel’s arm playfully.

“Please, by all means, continue telling me about all the boys you haven’t had sex with,” Castiel smirked.

“You little…” Anna snatched a pillow off his bed and proceeded to hit him in the stomach with it.

Castiel reacted by taking the pillow from under his head and whacking Anna on her shoulder, “This means war,” he said seriously.

“I’m older, you don’t have a chance of winning,” Anna’s pillow was flung at Castiel’s face. Cas grabbed it from his sister and began a relentless attack.

Anna fell on the floor gasping for him to stop between fits of laughter. Castiel threw one of his pillow’s on Anna’s stomach then sat on her.

Castiel listened to the sound of his sister’s breaths regulate. It was calming. For all the trouble she caused him, what with making it difficult for him to be self-destructive, he was glad he had at least her. Even if the rest of their family had left them.

“Gabriel would have loved that,” Anna whispered softly. Her mind was obviously on the same train as Castiel’s.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” Castiel asked in a small voice.

“I’m not sure.”

“Maybe if he knew Father was gone, he’d come back?”

“He probably would, but we’ve been over this, we have no way to contact him. We don’t know where he is or if he’s even…” _If he’s even alive._ Castiel had been worrying about the same thing. He missed his brother, he missed having a family, but any chance at having a normal life had been taken away along with his mother.

“At least, we know Father is still alive,” Anna continued, “He wires us money every month, so at least we know he hasn’t completely forgotten about us.”

“Yes, that makes me feel so much better. Thank you, Anna,” Castiel joked.

“I’m just saying, it could be worse.”

“I do not see any possible way this could be worse. You still work very hard, very often,” A frown was beginning to form on Castiel’s face.

“Yeah, but we could be so poor that you couldn’t go to school, then we’d have to sell drugs or become prostitutes. That’s how it could be worse.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He often thought about dropping out of school or killing himself. He’d long stopped caring what happened to him, but the thought of Anna selling herself on the streets filled Castiel with a sort of dread. Anna had been partly joking, but the underlying seriousness of what she said, rang in Castiel’s ears. Anna was sweet and surprisingly innocent despite the fact that she had been talking about sex mere moments ago. Anyone who took advantage of her, or abused her, deserved to go to hell.

“Anyway…” Anna drew out the word, lightening the mood, “Get off me, Fatass, and go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early.”

 _FatassFatassFatassFatassFatassFatassFatassFatass._ Anna’s words ran through Castiel’s head over and over. Was it so obvious to everyone? He’d been doing so well with his dieting. He was hungry all the time, he got dizzy spells every day, and he’d even been eating less than usual. Maybe if he didn’t eat for a whole week, then he migh−

“Hello, Earth to Castiel. Are you in there?” Anna was waving a hand inches away from his face.

“My apologies,” Castiel murmured, getting off his sister, offering her a hand up.

“No worries. I get it you’re tired. Goodnight,” Anna pulled her brother into a tight hug, smiling brilliantly.

“Goodnight.”

As soon as his door was shut, he locked it and began undressing. He stood in front of his mirror examining his body. He poked at his hipbones; the skin was stretched tight against the bone. He felt somewhat pleased at the sight. His gaze traveled up his body to his stomach. He looked a little wide around the waist, but when he turned sideways, he looked thinner. It wasn’t ideal and Castiel decided he would try and exercise his stomach more. His next focus was his ribs. When he first looked, it appeared they were sticking out, but the more he studied them, the more he worried they were strange fat rolls. He pushed out all the air from his lungs, so that his ribcage was more compressed. It gave him more of an illusion of being thin, which satisfied him, but as soon as he let his lungs work properly, he instantly despised how his torso grew. Eyes traveling up his chest, he noticed his sternum stuck out when he shifted positions, and his collarbones were quite prominent. His arms were decent. They held a bit too much muscle, which made them look large, as was the same with his legs, particularly his thighs.

Castiel glared at his stomach. Anna was right, he _was_ getting fat. He needed to make sure he didn’t let this go on any longer. He needed a reminder of how disgusting his body really was. He stormed over to his bed, ripping open the drawer on his bedside table and pulled out his favourite razor blade. It was one of his newer ones, still shiny with only a small speck of blood on the sharp left-hand corner. He lay back on his bed, head propped up on the pillows he’d retrieved from the floor. He studied his stomach for a moment, determining the best spot to place this reminder.

When he finally decided where to cut, he brought his razor blade down hard. He pushed and dragged slowly, making sure the cut would be deep enough to scar. The blood pooled immediately, making it difficult to see where to put the next cut. He swiped a tissue from the box on his side table and wiped away the blood, making two connecting lines to the first. He continued carving into himself until he was finished. The bite of the razor soothed him. He was focused on this task and this task alone.

When he was satisfied with his work, he grabbed an oversized black shirt and put it on. The blood was sure to soak through, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wiped the blood off the razor and put it back with the others in his drawer. He turned off his light, then snuggled into bed. His stomach stung, but at least he would never forget he was FAT with the words sliced into his flesh.

 

Castiel had been right. The blood did seep through his shirt. He woke up with his navy blue sheets stained dark red, though he doubted it would be too noticeable after he washed them. His wounds had dried attached to the shirt, which was unfortunate for Castiel. Carefully, he tried to separate shirt from skin. It came off of the ‘F’ and the ‘A’ all right with very minor damage, but the ‘T’ was completely reopened. The blood started flowing again and Castiel cursed. He should have just bandaged them up before he went to sleep.

He padded into the bathroom, and wiped away the dried blood and new blood with a wet cloth. When that was all clean, he wrapped a bandage around himself. That was the thing about cutting, it was messy. Burning was easier, but there was just something about seeing the bright red blood leaving his body that Castiel loved. It filled him with a sense of empowerment that he wouldn’t give up for the world.

Bandaging himself had wasted time; he was going to be late if he didn’t get a move on. He brushed his teeth, then got dressed as quickly as he could, making sure he didn’t make his cuts bleed any more. He ran past Anna, with an excuse about being late and not having time to talk. He forwent the apple, and felt proud of himself. He could do this, he could get fit. Castiel walked with purpose, the music from his iPod was near deafening, but he loved it. He felt like the main character from a movie, reborn overnight, and ready to face whatever his day had in store for him.

He wouldn’t go so far as to say he was happy, but he couldn’t help feeling how _right_ this all was. He was slowly killing himself. He knew this and it thrilled him.

 

First period History, he took notes attentively hanging on his teacher’s every word. He wasn’t going to be around much longer, so why not just put up with the shit everyone threw at him. It would all be over soon.

The bell rang and he found a set of green eyes burning a hole through him. He hadn’t realised Dean was in this class. Today had been the first day he wasn’t completely stoned, though, so that explained his poor knowledge of his classmates.

Castiel wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge Dean or not. He sort of just wanted to scurry off to his next class and ignore everyone around him. Castiel knew he couldn’t do that, not with the most beautiful boy he had ever seen staring at him like he meant something to him. Castiel shuffled his feet and looked down at his scuffed shoes nervously. A pair of work boots entered Castiel’s line of vision, making him whip his head up to meet forest green eyes.

“So, you’re not a ninja today,” Dean stated. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his plush lips, exposed perfect rows of white teeth.

“Pardon me?” Castiel tilted his head quizzically.

“You know, you’re always disappearing. Like, one minute you’re there, the next you’re gone. Only ninja’s have fucking awesome moves like that, so… yeah. Ninja.” Dean broke their eye contact, glancing at their shoes. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his shoulders were drawn up to his ears protectively.

“I can assure you, I most certainly am not a ninja. I have simply succeeded in the art of invisibility. Metaphorically speaking, of course.” There was just something about talking to Dean that made the pit in his chest try to rebuild itself. It felt strange, but not necessarily bad strange.

“Well, I’m glad you haven’t turned into The Invisible Man yet. I actually wanted to ask you something,” Castiel looked at Dean dubiously, “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you out. I won’t try that again for a little while, but I just wanted to know if you wanted to eat lunch together today. Not gonna lie, I’ve been looking for you pretty much every day. You’re really good at that invisible thing. So, lunch. Yes? No?”

Lunch. With Dean.

Castiel wanted to say yes. He really did, but he didn’t eat lunch and he didn’t want Dean asking questions. He really shouldn’t say yes. Besides, his spot was private. He wasn’t going to sit in the crowded cafeteria, so he’d want to go to his rubbish pile. Dean couldn’t find out about his secret corner of the school, it was Castiel’s.

“Yes,” Castiel said firmly.

Dean’s eyes widened, as did Castiel’s as he realised what he’d just said.

“Awesome. Where do you want to meet up?” Dean’s eyes were bright with excitement. It was surreal knowing that he put that spark there.

“Meet me by the doors in the math wing,” Apparently today was opposite day. Everything Castiel wanted to say came out wrong. What happened to his secrecy?

“Great, see ya, Cas,” Dean grinned and the corner of Castiel’s lip twitched up.

There was that nickname again. The pit inside of him was definitely trying to get smaller.

He stayed in place, watching the door Dean had just walked through. The late bell rang, snapping Castiel back into reality. There was a girl watching him predatorily, waiting to occupy the desk Castiel was stood at. She was very pretty with chocolate brown waves of hair cascading around her round face. She looked a bit like a doll, if Castiel ignored the way she held herself which clearly screamed ‘bad girl’.

“Hey there, Gorgeous. I’m Meg,” Her smile widened as she moved closer to Castiel, “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new?” Castiel was thoroughly confused by this girl’s actions. What was happening right now?

“No, I am not new,” Castiel’s low, gravelly voice made something in Meg’s eyes change and suddenly all he wanted was to get out of there.

“Well, where have you been hiding, Clarence?” Meg purred, reaching for Castiel’s arm.

“I don’t understand. Who’s Clarence?” Castiel asked stepping out of range of Meg’s hand.

Meg just laughed, “Maybe, I’ll see you around sometime.”

Castiel seriously hoped he didn’t, but didn’t say so. Mrs. Wellsh was watching him, silently asking him to go to his proper class. Castiel nodded and ran out of the room and away from that Meg girl.

 

The hallways were completely clear of students, to Castiel’s relief. He found it was easier to travel around the school when he wasn’t trying to avoid getting elbowed or shoved around. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob of his next class. He’d never been late before, so he didn’t know if there was some sort of protocol he was supposed to follow.

Ignoring his worries, he pushed opened the door to the room. Everyone’s eyes were drawn immediately to Castiel. He shrunk in on himself, trying to become a smaller target. Mumbling an apology to his teacher, he took his seat and took out his notebook.

Castiel slumped in his seat and stared at the clock, watching the seconds and minutes go by. Lunch seemed like an eternity away, and Castiel couldn’t wait to see Dean.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I believe an explanation for the lateness of this chapter is in order.  
> I have been dealing with my own problems, which believe it or not, are worse than Dean and Cas' in this story.  
> I did attempt suicide and I would be dead now if my parents hadn't found me before I could go.  
> I spent several months in the psychiatric ward of the hospital. I got out just over a month ago and have been adjusting to living. So, that's why this is so late, and I'm sorry for letting you guys down.  
> Also this is unbeta'd so sorry about that, but I just really wanted to get this posted!

Castiel was a great ball of nerves, when lunch time finally arrived. He shouldn't have agreed to sit with Dean, it was just going to end poorly for everyone involved.

Regardless of his reluctance, Cas shuffled over to the place he and Dean had agrees upon to meet.  
Dean was already there, leaning against the door, looking out the window, completely at ease. His face was a mask of calm, which made Castiel feel better. If Dean didn't think this lunch date was a big deal, maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

Castiel spent a couple of minutes just watching Dean. He couldn't believe someone that gorgeous actually wanted to spend time with him. 

Dean chose that moment to look up. He caught Castiel's eye, and it was as if the clouds had parted revealing the brilliant light of the sun. Dean's face was glowing as he beamed at Cas, motioning for him to come over to him. 

Castiel tore his gaze from Dean's, choosing to stare at the linoleum floor as he approached Dean. The janitor really needs to be more thorough in his administrations, Castiel mused, walking past a large dust bunny.

"Hey, Cas." Oh. He was standing inches away from the other boy, completely invading his personal space. 

"Hello, Dean."

"So where are we headed?" Dean inquired, smile still in place. 

"Follow me," Castiel instructed, pushing open the door and walking outside. There was a slight chill in the air, but Castiel didn't mind. If anything, he appreciated the way it made him more aware of his surroundings, namely Dean who was so close. If Castiel shifted his steps subtly to his right, they would be pressed against each other. The thought comforted Cas. He wasn't alone in this moment; he had someone who wanted to be with him for what felt like the first time ever.

Castiel led the way into his little junk filled alcove, sitting on the old tyre he had begun to think of as his. 

"Is this where you go every day?" Dean was examining the place with a speculative eye. 

"Yes."

"Cool. You know, I didn't even know this place existed," Dean said appreciatively, sitting next to Cas on the giant tyre. 

"That was the point. No one would be able to find me here. It's quiet and isolated."

"You don't talk to people much, do you?" Castiel refused to return Dan’s gaze, at this. 

"No, I don't. I usually just speak with my sister, Anna." Castiel picked absentmindedly at a loose thread on his jeans. 

"That's cool. I only really have two friends, Jo and Ash. Besides them, the only other person I bother talking to is Sammy."

"Aren't they missing you right now?" Castiel peeked up at Dean. 

"Nah. They practically kicked me away when I told them I was planning on eating with you?" Dean began to dig through his backpack, looking for something.

This information baffled Castiel, "Why would they do that?"

Dean shrugged, still rummaging in his sack. "They know how I feel about you, so…" Dean trailed off, having found what he had been looking for: a ham sandwich. "Do you have a lunch? You can have half, if you want." Dean held out a triangle of bread and meat. 

Castiel shook his head, "No thank you. I'm fine."

"Dude, how are you not starving? I haven't eaten since breakfast and I feel like I'm going to die if this sandwich does not get in me now." He proved his point by taking a huge bite. 

"I already ate last period. Mr. Guenther doesn't mind, so I like to eat then."

Dean nodded, "That's understandable. If my teacher wasn't such a bitch I'd be eating too. There should be two lunch periods because, let’s be real, everyone needs more time for food." 

Castiel twisted his hands together and clenched his jaw. He'd rather talk about anything other than this.   
"How is Sam doing?" Castiel awkwardly changed the subject. 

“He’s good,” Dean answered around a mouthful of food. Castiel didn’t find it nearly as repulsive as he would have if it had been anyone else.

“I’m pretty sure, the kid managed to catch himself a girlfriend,” Dean continued, smirking, “She’s real pretty too. Way out of little Sammy’s league.”

“That must be nice for Sam,” Castiel found himself relaxing more into the conversation.

“He doesn’t really talk about her much. Whenever I bring her up, he starts blushing like a girl. It’s fun to embarrass him.” Castiel loved hearing Dean talk about Sam. Even though he was making fun of his little brother, it was evident how much he really cared for Sam. Anna was a good sister. Castiel loved her, but their relationship was nothing compared to the Winchester’s.

They were silent for a moment, both lost in different thoughts. Castiel was thinking about the family he never got to have, but Dean was thinking about something else entirely.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Dean asked suddenly, wiping crumbs from his hands onto his jeans.

Castiel’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but shut it immediately. He wasn’t sure if Dean would try to ask him out again, and he wasn’t sure what his answer would be if Dean did.

“I’m just curious. I already told you I’m gonna wait a while before tryin’ to ask you out again.”

Slowly Castiel looked up into Dean’s earnest eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing in the depths of those beautiful eyes. There were secrets there − that was for sure − as well as pain. Castiel hated seeing the other boy in pain, even if it was only a small fraction of the pain he knew one could feel, and he knew, in that moment, that if Dean did ask him out, he’d say yes easily, anything to take away the hurt.

“No, I am not currently dating anybody,” His response was steady, while his heart beat frantically and his palms had begun to sweat.

Dean smiled warmly at Castiel’s answer, his eyes lit with hope. It was too much to witness, so Cas looked away at the overflowing dumpster.

“You walk home every day, right?”

Castiel returned his focus to Dean, tilting his head in confusion, “Yes, I do. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was just thinking that I could give you rides to and from school if you wanted. Your house isn’t out of our way, so it wouldn’t be a pain in my ass or anything.” It was Dean’s turn to fidget uncomfortably now.

Castiel was about to say yes. The word was right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say it. Walking was great exercise for him, it would keep him in shape, and he needed to be fit, desperately, “It’s alright. Thank you, Dean, but I like walking.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you know you can go for a walk whenever you want.”

Castiel considered this carefully. He could go walking later, maybe even run since he wouldn’t be lugging around his heavy book bag. He could make a whole workout out of this opportunity. Besides, hadn’t he been wanting this yesterday? More chances to be in the Impala? “You have a valid point. I think it would be most agreeable to ride with you and Sam.” 

“Yes!” Dean fist pumped, laughing. It was a nice laugh that made Castiel want to be responsible for many more of them.

“Where shall I find you after school?”

“Umm, well, class is about to start in a couple of minutes, so how about you walk with me to my locker so you know where it is, then we can meet there later?” Dean did that nervous habit of his where he rubs the back of his neck.

“All right,” Castiel’s lips betrayed him, turning up into a small, shy smile.

“Awesome!” Dean stood up, grinning, shouldering his backpack before offering Cas his hand. Castiel took it and was reminded of when they had first properly met in the boys’ toilets. He blushed, just as he had blushed then. He almost regretted storming out on Dean that day, but he was still unsure of the sincerity of Dean’s feelings towards him. It didn’t seem like Dean was making fun of him behind his back, but teenagers could be cruel and unpredictable. Until Cas was aware of Dean’s intentions with him, it would be best to be more cautious around the other boy.

The moment they stepped inside the school, Castiel ceased any effort to continue speaking. Dean noticed, protectively moving closer to him. Castiel appreciated it, but the anxiety of being in the crowded hall was still too overwhelming.

“So, this here is my locker.” Dean announced, unlocking his locker in a way that made the combination visible to Castiel. 23-5-27. Cas wasn’t sure why, but he decided to commit those numbers to memory. He repeated the numbers over and over in his head. The mantra eased his frayed nerves and cleared his mind of almost all anxieties.

“What class do you have now?” Dean interrupted Cas’s meditation, smiling brilliantly.

“Maths,” Castiel’s answer was immediate.

“Ugh, that sucks. I’ve got Biology, though, so I guess we both have shitty classes.” Castiel nodded in agreement, “So, meet me here after school?” Dean asked.

“Yes, of course.” Castiel turned back to the math wing eager to get away from Dean so he could think properly.

Honestly, Castiel loved the attention Dean was giving him. Dean wasn’t demanding anything in return except for Castiel’s mostly silent company, which was a really great deal on Castiel’s part, because while his company was worth nothing, he was finding Dean’s was worth very much.

Castiel was anticipating the ride in Dean’s car. If only that ride wasn’t returning him to a cold, empty house, Cas would be content. He was quickly becoming aware of the fact that Dean’s actions were most likely genuine. It was difficult to understand why Dean of all people would be interested in him, but Castiel was very glad he was.

Castiel decided that, perhaps, it wouldn’t be so bad being friends with Dean. He didn’t think he could be anything more yet, but maybe someday if Dean was willing to wait… but that was ridiculous. Of course, Dean wouldn’t want to wait around for Castiel. Dean would most likely get tired of all of Castiel’s shit and leave him for someone like Lisa Braeden.

While most students were unaware of Castiel, Cas was fairly aware of them. He’d hear the boys talk about how ‘fucking sweet it would be to get a piece of that ass’ while the girls wished they had her golden tanned skin and luscious hair. He was sure Dean would get swept up in Lisa’s beauty like everyone else. It would only be a matter of time. After all, he had noticed Lisa watching Dean a few times. No, it would be best to just be friends.

At the end of the day, Cas made his may over to Dean’s locker with new determination. He wanted this whole friend thing to work. He needed it to work. Castiel was getting so very tired of being lonely.

He shuffled from foot to foot trying to avoid the mass of teenagers, as he waited for Dean to arrive. Castiel considered unlocking Dean’s locker to save time, but was worried Dean might find that a little too creepy and weird. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait too much longer before he heard Dean’s friendly voice greeting him.

“Hey, man. Sorry to make you wait,” Dean apologised.

“It’s fine,” Castiel could feel himself become less tense, due to his close proximity to Dean.

Cas watched as Dean struggled with his lock for a while, face scrunched up in concentration. Castiel thought it was quite endearing as he blushed and looked away. He could hear the click of the lock opening and the thump of books as Dean tossed them to the bottom of his locker.

“Ready to go?” Dean asked, nudging Cas lightly with his elbow. Castiel looked up into Dean’s eyes and nodded, fighting to keep the grin off his face.

The hallway had cleared out making it easier to maneuver their way out of the school and into the parking lot. Castiel couldn’t help but let a small smile escape as he took in the sight of Dean’s beauty of a car and the proud look on Dean’s face as he noticed Cas admiring his car. Sam was standing by the passenger door, but as soon as he saw Castiel, he backed up to let Cas take the front passenger’s seat.

This small gesture made Castiel feel like he finally belonged somewhere, like the Winchester’s could be his family. The idea was ludicrous, of course. He hardly knew Sam or Dean, and he seriously doubted they’d even want a permanent fixture, such as Cas, to occupy their lives. Castiel dug the nails of his right hand into his cut up stomach, making him wince in much deserved pain, to be rid of that bitter longing he felt in his gut.

Dean unlocked the doors, letting the three boys into the car. The scent of the Impala made Castiel feel safe, and as much as he knew he couldn’t, he wanted nothing more than to stay in that car, with Dean driving them anywhere and everywhere.

The purr of the engine and the violent sound of some classic rock song Castiel was unfamiliar with only enhanced the notion that this was Castiel’s new sanctuary. He felt embarrassed at his rampant thoughts and hid his face in his trench coat, as a blush coloured his lightly tanned cheeks. Though his imaginings made him uncomfortable, Castiel couldn’t deny the truth to them. He wanted to stay in the easy company of his new friends, and avoid returning to his cold and empty house for as long as possible.

Castiel’s worries were interrupted by Sam’s curious voice, “Are you coming over, Castiel?”

Cas started, unsure of how he should answer. He had just been wishing for this opportunity, but he didn’t want to impose himself upon these people.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to or can’t, but it would be pretty awesome if you did come over,” Dean said after an awkward pause.

“That would be quite pleasing, actually. Thank you,” Castiel responded, butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach.

“Awesome!” Dean cheered. Castiel was surprised by the honesty he saw radiating off of Dean at his exclamation. It was so pure, it made Cas’s breath catch in awe. He would never understand what Dean saw in him.

A hint of guilt washed over Castiel. He felt as if he had somehow tricked Dean into thinking he was worth something. It was a despicable act, no matter how unintended it was. His reasonably good mood vanished and he dug his fingers into him stomach, disrupting his healing cuts, as punishment.

A little gasp escaped Castiel’s mouth as his fingers pressed harder.

“You okay there, Cas?” Dean asked, glancing worriedly at his passenger, then back at the road.

“Yes, thank you,” Castiel replied.

Dean’s brow was furrowed in confusion, but he soon shrugged, dismissing his previous concern.

 

It wasn’t long before they pulled into the garage of a small, rundown house. The front lawn was overgrown, and there were some dead plants in the tiny garden. The windows were dirty, the paint on their frames was peeling. It was nowhere near as extravagant as Cas’ house, but for some reason it felt homier. It had character, it held the stories of the Winchesters.

Castiel could easily imagine the two brothers throwing a ball back and forth, when they were younger, while their mother made them lemonade and there father stood watching proudly, giving advice in regards to better throw or receive. The little scenario Castiel had created in his head made him want to smile. It would have been nice to grow up like that, though the lack of upkeep to the house’s outside made Castiel wonder when things would have changed for the Winchester family.

“Well,” Dean said somewhat awkwardly, turning off the engine of the Impala, “this is home. Where I live. With Sam…”

A snicker came from the backseat prompting Cas to turn around and see Sam rolling his eyes as he gathered his things and got out of the car.

“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean called gruffly to his brother.

Castiel watched the exchanged with equal amounts of amusement and confusion. Of course, Dean could have been more eloquent, but he didn’t see any reason to poke fun at his wording. Castiel also didn’t understand why there was a deep crimson blush crawling up Dean’s neck, tinting his cheeks and ears a lighter shade of rose.

Before Cas could ask any questions, Dean was getting out of the car too, cocking his head towards the door to his house, encouraging Cas to follow him into his domain.

The first thing Castiel noticed when he passed the threshold was the smell. It was very strong and very fake, as if it had been used to mask something putrid. It wasn’t necessarily a bad smell, in fact it smelt like a variety of citrus fruits blended together with a few spices thrown into the mix. It would have been fine if the air freshener had been used moderately, but this was excessive.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled beside him, after noticing Castiel wrinkle his nose against the cloying perfume, “but believe me, it smelt about eight thousand times worse before we febrezed the place.”

Castiel nodded, wondering what possible could have garnered the utilisation of such a cover up scent.

“C’mon, if we go upstairs, it won’t be so bad,” Dean made his way through the house to the staircase, where they made their ascent into Dean’s room.

Castiel wasn’t sure how to act being alone in Dean’s room. Sam had wandered off somewhere leaving the two boys to their own devices.

Dean dumped his bag on the floor, making himself comfortably sat on his bed.

Cautiously, Castiel followed Dean’s actions and perched himself on the very edge of the left corner of Dean’s bed. He sat stiffly, taking in the way Dean’s room reflected him perfectly. There were clothes piled on the floor, namely a multitude of plaid shirts and classic rock band shirts. His walls bore several posters of the aforementioned bands on the t-shirts as well as some classic cars. A photo of what must have been Dean, his parents and Sam when they were younger was on Dean’s desk.

“Is that your family?” Cas asked, unable to come up with anything bright to say.

Dean’s mouth twitched into a frown before he answered with a sigh and a nod of his head.

Castiel tilted his head slightly and squinted at Dean trying to figure out what that was supposed to mean.

“My mum died soon after that was taken.” Dean finally replied, voice void of any emotion.

There went Castiel’s imagined idea of Dean and Sam’s childhood. No mother, no lemonade, what else had they lost?

Cas shifted uncomfortable and began picking nervously at his knuckles, “My condolences. I…” A slightly shaky breath was expelled from his body and his knuckles slowly welled with blood as he continued to pick at them. Another breath, and…”I myself lost my mother…”

“Man, it fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” Dean expressed dropping a heavy fist into his mattress.

Castiel just nodded.

“And y’know the worst part? The worst fucking part is that I didn’t just lose my mum that day, I lost my dad too! I mean, he didn’t die or anything, but after mum he just lost it! Started drinking, neglecting Sammy and me. I never got a fucking childhood! I had to look out for Sam. I was four and I had to make sure Sam got fed! What sort of bullshit is that?”

Castiel felt the heavy weight of guilt settle into his gut. Here he was, having given Dean and Sam a wonderful childhood in his head, but unable to give that falsity to Dean as a reality. He couldn’t make Dean happy, in fact, he’d even upset him. Of all the things to talk about, why had he chosen family? It wasn’t as if his family was anything to rave about, why did he have to go intruding in other people’s business.

“Some date this turned out to be.” Dean chuckled darkly.

“I have to go.” Cas said suddenly, not hearing what Dean had just said. He stood up sharply and spun on his heel and out the bedroom door.

“Wait, Cas!” Dean called, “I didn’t mean this was a date! I told you I’d wait until you were ready! Please don’t leave.”

Cas managed to navigate his way to the front door, mind a chaotic mess of self-hatred and an overwhelming need to hurt himself. He clawed at his stomach through his shirt, ripping off some of the scabbing, letting the smallest bit of blood seep through his clothing.

“Cas!” Dean sounded exasperated and upset and Cas hated himself for making Dean sound like that.

“Goodbye.” Castiel managed to get out, before racing out the door, running as fast as he could.

 

The run made his head spin and his ribs sear as they tried hopelessly to breath in oxygen. His legs were burning and his shoulders hurt from carrying his school bag, but he kept running. He pushed himself harder and harder, not even sure where he was or where he was going all he knew was pain and he held on to that pain as tightly as he could.

He’d been an idiot to think he could be anything other than the dirt under Dean’s shoes. He didn’t deserve the kindness he had been shown, whether it had been genuine or not. He was worthless, so very, very worthless.

Tears ran their own trails down his face, blurring his vision, making it impossible to see properly, but still he ran.

Dean needed people who could make him happy. People who could make him smile and laugh. He didn’t need a fuckup like Castiel to make his life even harder.

He only stopped running when he tripped over a rather large rock. His hands shot out to catch himself, but his chin still got scraped by another rock.

He sat himself up letting more of his blood run from his palms and chin. He wiped the moisture away from his eyes, clearing his vision, making him cry out like a severely wounded animal.

It was that spot. The spot he had vowed never to return because it reminded him too much of his mother. After all, it had been their place. It felt wrong to be there without his mother beside him smiling and pointing out the ducks or frogs.

Why had his legs carried him there? It was just rubbing salt into his wounds, as if he needed a reminder of how he couldn’t have someone else he had cared for.

It was just a little lake or maybe it was a river, Castiel wasn’t sure, but it held so many memories. He remembered splashing around when he was little while his mother watched, eating a picnic as a light shower spat at them in the sunny sky, skipping rocks, saving a fish, spouting out water from his mouth and onto his mother as she laughed, the sound like wind chimes and butterfly wings fluttering.

The pain of these memories was too much. He needed to escape, but he couldn’t get his legs to support him. Instead he reached into his pack and pulled out a bag full of multi-coloured pills he kept for occasions such as the one he was currently suffering through. He reached into the baggie and picked a couple spring green coloured pills. He took them with the water from the river and waited before complete euphoria took over.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! i hope you enjoy it! and sorry about any mistakes, it's unedited. I just wanted to give it to you guys so badly!!! <3

 

Dean was dumbfounded, completely flummoxed. He was stood at his front door just staring at the direction Cas had run off in. He was reeling from what had just happened.

What had happened? Dean wasn’t sure, but he was certain he had somehow fucked things up, just like he always managed too. He’d made someone else he cared for run away.

Why did he even try anymore? Why did he have to have feelings and care for people like a frickin’ girl? Emotions just messed stuff up.

Dean shut the door loudly, spinning on his heel and storming upstairs to his room.

He’d opened himself up, _revealed his past for the first time ever_ , and he’d been rejected with no explanation.

Dean tried to pacify himself by telling himself that Cas must have forgotten a doctor’s appointment or something, but Cas didn’t really seem like the type to worry about doctors.

No matter what Dean tried to reason, it all came back to him. He was the one telling uncomfortable stories about his family life. He was the one who’d called their hanging out a _date!_ He was obviously the one too fucked up to form any relationships, healthy or otherwise.

Dean dug through a pile of dirty laundry searching for… there it was the unfinished bottle of whiskey he’d stashed away, so Sam wouldn’t know about his apparently hereditary method of coping.

He hadn’t thought he’d ever be returning to the bottle. Not like this. He didn’t even know why he’d saved the bottle in his room.

He rationalised that he was just trying to save Sam from worrying about him, but he could have disposed of the bottle the day after he drank, when Sam was at school, or he could have just told Sam that he’d found another bottle their dad had hid somewhere, but he didn’t. So here he was, trying to forget as he let the liquid burn down his throat and nestle in his stomach, creating a comfy haze where all thoughts slipped away.

He finished off the bottle in no time, but the fog in his brain wasn’t strong enough. He could still see that stupid mop of dark hair getting as far away from him as possible. He needed more alcohol. Stat.

Dean stumbled to his closed bedroom door, hand on knob, ready to turn it, before he heard footsteps walk past his room.

_Fuck!_

Dean had forgotten Sam was even home. He couldn’t go on an alcohol search with his brother in the house. Dean opened the door a crack and peered out into the hallway. It was empty and some bullshit girly country music was playing from Sam’s room.

The coast was clear.

Dean tried to be as quiet as he could in his intoxicated state, padding slowly towards John’s abandoned quarters.

Of course, Sam and Dean had gone through their father’s room, tidying and disposing empty and full bottles of liquor, but they hadn’t really intensely searched the room. Dean’s hope was that they had missed a couple stealthily hidden bottles.

Dean dug in his father’s closet. First in the remaining pile of clothes on the closet’s floor, then in a pair of shabby boots, where he found a mini bottle of scotch like the ones they serve on airplanes.

Dean was proud of his find, but it wasn’t enough. He’d finish that in a minute. There had to be more somewhere. Dean _needed_ there to be more!

He spent almost twenty minutes looking for more to fill his mind with blissful nothingness with no luck.

Grumbling to himself, he sat down, opening the tiny little bottle, finishing it in two gulps.

Life wasn’t fair. All Dean wanted was to get completely and utterly pissed drunk, but no, life wouldn’t even give him that. After everything life had put him through, he couldn’t just get drunk! Not for one fucking shitty afternoon?!? Life fucking owed it to him to get drunk as all fucking hell.

Dean began to bang his head against the back of his father’s closet repeatedly. Each bang shaking the wall. It hurt, but the alcohol in his system made him ignore the pain and encouraged him to keep connecting his head to the wall with a brutal force.

If Sam hadn’t been listening to his stupid music so loudly, he probably would have come to see what the hell was going on.

Heaving a large sigh, Dean smacked his head against the wall as hard as he could, hating himself with every fiber of his being.

Then, it seemed like fucking God or something was looking down at him with pity and wanted to make him feel a little less pathetic, for as his head thudded against the wall that final time, a bottle of rum fell down from the heavens and into his lap. Or, at least that’s what Dean thought for a second before realising there was a semi-hidden shelf at the very top of his father’s closet.

Staggering to his feet, Dean dragged John’s wooden desk chair over to the closet and stood on it, reaching his arm into the tight space of the shelf.

His hand blindly trailed across the wooden surface, finding nothing but dust. Dean was getting increasingly annoyed.

Just when he was about to give up, his fingers brushed against glass, tucked away in the farthest corner.

Excitedly, Dean leant forward more, chair tipping onto two legs. His hand wrapped around a bottle and he pulled it out, it was more whiskey. Dean threw the bottle onto his father’s bed then reached back to collect four more bottles.

Pleased with his work, Dean gathered up the bottles in a sheet and snuck back into his room, making sure to lock his door.

Dean dropped the sheet full of liquor onto his bed and stared at each bottle, considering which one to drink first.

He picked the rum that had first come to him, opening the bottle and drinking.

 _Stupid fuckup,_ Dean thought with each vomit inducing sip, until the hazy fog in his brain became too much and he passed out in blissful ignorance.

 

“Dean!” a voice called proceeded by five thunderous noises.” _Deeeeeeaaaaaaan!!!”_   the thunder continued.

A croaky groan escaped Dean’s lips, as he scrunched up his eyes in hopes of returning to beautiful unconsciousness.

The thunder continued, getting louder and louder along with must have been the piercing scream of the wind.

Dean was so not prepared to deal with a horrendous storm in his house. Not now. Not while he was so warm and cosy in his bed.

“Dean, come on! We have school,” the storm persisted.

That was odd. The storm was talking to him, making his head pound and ache, like an overly abused punching bag, but those were words. The storm was using his _name_.

“I’ll know you’re door down!”

Dean cracked open an eye.

He was in his room, on his bed, fully clothed. There was nothing out of the ordinary, except for that damn banging. Dean rolled over towards the noise. Not thunder, but knocking. On his door.

Dean groaned again, vigorously rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“What are you even doing in there?” Dean finally recognised Sam’s voice.

“Sleeping,” Dean grumbled.

“But, _school,_ Dean. We’re gonna be late if you don’t get up.” Sam whined.

“Don’t feel good.” Dean replied.

“Oh, is that why you didn’t come for dinner last night?”

Last night… Dean couldn’t remember anything past his first however many shots of rum. Did he even eat last night? His growling stomach told him no.

“Uhh, yeah, Sammy, that’s why.” Dean said, sitting up. His stomach lurched and he put a hand over his mouth in case his stomach really did expel the alcohol. Once the nausea had settled down a bit, Dean felt safe to speak again, “Sammy, I really don’t feel good. You okay walking to school?”

“Yeah, sure, Dean. I’ll just walk with Cas. Just, uh, feel better, okay?”

 _Cas_. Just the mention of the other boy’s name made Dean’s heart clench. He didn’t care that he was on the brink of getting sick all over the place, not to mention having possible liver damage, but, all at once, he was craving more booze just to get the image of Cas’ sad blue eyes and painful grimace out of his mind.

Flopping back onto his bed and shutting his eyes, he thanked Sam and wished him a good day at school.

He felt guilty. This was the second time he was missing school to nurse a hangover. He was turning into his father and he didn’t know how to stop it.

It seemed that alcohol had become a crutch to lean on, during hard times. The problem was, his whole life was a hard time, what with raising Sam by himself, attending school, worrying if they had enough money, and Castiel. His life was full of nightmares, so he threw all his weight on that crutch hoping it would hold him up, though the voice in the back of his head whispered to him, if he leant too hard, the crutch would snap and he’d end up being a broken mess on the ground, unable to stand back up again.

Dean chose to ignore that voice though. For now, alcohol was working and he didn’t want to give it up.

 

Dean slept off his hangover all day until he heard the front door open and close.

“I’m home!” Sam called.

Dean knew it would only be a couple minutes until Sam made his way to Dean’s room, so Dean wearily cleared up the evidence of his drunken escapade the day before and unlocked his door.

As soon as Dean collapsed back into bed, Sam knocked on the door, walking in the room without a reply from Dean.

“Hey, man,” Dean greeted, “How was school?”

“It was good. Cas wasn’t there though. I guess he’s how you got sick?” Sam said uncertainly.

“What?” Dean asked dumbly. He nibbled him bottom lip nervously wondering if he was the reason Cas had skipped school.

“Yeah, Cas was a no show. He did leave abruptly yesterday though, right? Wasn’t it ‘cause he was sick?”

Dean didn’t answer. He just let his mind spiral with worry. He knew Cas was rather keen on school, it worried him to no end that Cas had been absent.

“I better go over and check on him,” Dean thought out loud. He was surprised at the sudden thought, but realised it was the only possible choice Dean could stand to choose.

“You sure? I mean, you’re sick too,” Sam eyed Dean dubiously.

“Meh, I’m fine. I’m just worried about Cas. Dude seems kinda fragile, y’know,” Dean shrugged as he got up.

He smelt the shirt he was wearing and decided on changing upon recognising the staleness of it. Dean then grabbed his jacket, pulled on his boots, and left the house with a quick goodbye to Sam.

His baby started up with a roar, and Dean was on his way, racing over to Cas’ home.

The drive seemed to take too long, even though they didn’t live too far away from each other. Dean’s mind was chaotic. He was worried about Cas, which only made him worry about how much he was worrying, making him question when  and why Cas had become such a source of anxiety to him.

When Dean finally pulled up in front of the Milton house, he jumped out of the car, closing the door with a little too much force, making Dean flinch and apologise to the Impala. He ran up to the front door and knocked so hard, he was practically punching the door.

When the door opened, revealing a familiar, confused looking red headed girl, Dean just let his aching hand flop to his side.

“Dean?” The girl inquired.

“Uhhh…hi?” He responded dumbly.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” She smiled, biting her lip in a flirty way.

“Err, I, uh, I was looking for Cas?”

The familiar girl looked a little disappointed and guilty as she smiled softly, “Of course you are, but he’s not home from school yet.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. This wasn’t good.

“You’re his sister?” Dean questioned to which he received a nod of affirmation. “Does he always come home so late?”

“Not when I’m home. I don’t know about the times when I’m not.” She replied.

“Do you know where I could find him, if he’s taken a little detour? It’s important,” Dean was feeling more and more exasperated with every passing second.

“I don’t really know. He might have decided to walk through the park. I see him coming and going in that direction sometimes.”

Dean barely managed to utter a word of thanks before he was rushing off towards the park, leaving his baby in the Milton’s driveway. He was going to come back, hopefully with Castiel in tow.

 

The park was almost completely empty. Castiel was nowhere to be found. Dean had run around the entire expanse of the park, asking strangers if they’d seen a boy his age, with piercing blue eyes and artfully messy hair, all to no avail.

Castiel’s sister had only mentioned the park, so Dean had no other ideas of where to look. Cas had to be there somewhere!

Dean ran his hands anxiously through his hair, scanning the layout of the park. It was a fairly large park bordering a thickly forested area that ran adjacent to a river. There was a black sort of low hanging chain fence that divided the tame park and the wilder gathering of trees.

The chain was more for people to watch where they were going lest they tumble five feet to the forest’s floor, but Dean knew people liked to jump the fence and hang out by the river. Mostly teenage couples wanting to make out somewhere private and secluded, but Cas liked places like that. Places where no one could easily find him, so that he may wallow in his solitude. The river was just the sort of place Cas would go, if his little hideaway at school said anything about Cas’ character.

Dean jogged to the edge of the forest, jumping the chain and carefully sliding down the little slope. He walked through the trees for a while, trying to reach the river where he would have a better view of his surroundings.

Once he reached the water, he walked along with the current, leaving the park further and further behind him.

After an hour the river forked into a little creek. Dean decided to follow the smaller current of water and see where it lead to, hoping it would lead him to Cas, and lead him to Cas it did.

The creek opened up into a sort of forested cove or lake. Dean didn’t really care what to call it because a mile away from him was a limp body sprawled across the rocky terrain.

“Cas!” Dean called, sprinting to his friend.

Dean dropped to his knees and shook Cas’ shoulder to wake him up.

“C’mon, Cas. Wake up, wake up, _wake up!_ ” Dean cursed under his breath.

Next to Cas’ head was an almost empty bag of pills that Dean was pretty sure weren’t prescription.

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean banged his fist against the ground.

He needed to wake him up. If Dean woke Cas up everything would be okay.

Dean cupped his hands together and scooped up the cold river’s water. He then proceeded to dump the handful of cold water onto Cas’ face.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel snapped his eyes open, sitting up sputtering.

“What in Heaven’s name?” Cas gasped, blinking water out of his eyes.

“Oh, that fuck you’re okay,” a very mussed and concerned looking Dean Winchester said, sitting back on his heels.

Cas looked around. He was still in his mother’s spot, where he’d spent the whole day getting high and lounging around.

He didn’t remember much of the day, and the things he did remember were unlikely real, but he couldn’t figure out why Dean was in his special place.

“What are you doing here?” Cas asked, squinting over at Dean.

“Well, I heard you weren’t in school today and I was kinda worried if it was because you were avoiding me because I did or said something stupid to you yesterday, so I wanted to find out if we were cool and if you were okay, like, if you were sick I wanted to know if you were feeling any better, so I went to your house and your sister, who looks really familiar by the way, answered the door and told me you weren’t home from school yet, so I was kinda freaking out because you hadn’t been to school, so I asked if she knew where you might be and she said the park, but you weren’t there but then I thought about how you like seclusion, so I figured you’d be somewhere in these damn woods, but _fuck_ , I figured you’d be at least a little close to the park, not a whole fucking hike away, and what the fuck do you think you’re doing taking drugs so close to water, like, _dude,_ you could have drowned! Also, are we cool? ’Cause you kinda sprinted out of my front door like I was the most disgusting person ever, so…yeah…”

Cas just stared at Dean, trying to process everything Dean had just thrown at him.

Dean was worried about him? Dean was worried about the two of them? After Cas had been so stupid yesterday, Dean still wanted to be friends? It was too hard to understand, so Cas just answered with the only thing he did understand, “You kissed my sister.”

“I− _what?_ No I didn’t. Where’d that come from? I only talked to her for like two seconds about _you,_ I might add,” Dean frowned.

“You kissed my sister,” Cas repeated, “That’s why she was familiar. You kissed her, then she graduated and that was that.” If Cas was pouting, it wasn’t because he was jealous, not at all.

“Oh.” was all Dean managed to say.

“Yeah, oh,” Cas grumbled irritably, “You do know, if you are just trying to ‘get with me’ like you did with Anna, it’s not going to happen. I’m not just a toy for boys like you to play with.”

“That kiss with your sister didn’t even mean anything! When I kiss you I want it to mean something. I’m not a totally dick Cas, but thanks for thinking of me as lowly as you do Crowley, because isn’t that what you are to him, Cas? A toy? I know you guys mess around in the boy’s toilets. I don’t know why, because you obviously hate it, but I know you do,” Dean’s voice had risen in volume and his eyes were burning with some sort of righteous fury.

“I am of no worth, Dean. I am nothing. I deserve whatever Crowley does to me, because I don’t deserve anything nice. I don’t deserve you. That’s why I can’t believe your interest in me is anything other that mere, petty infatuation,” Cas could feel his eyes water, so he dug his fingers into his stomach to distract himself from his emotional pain.

“But, Cas, can’t you see it?” Dean asked, moving into Cas’ personal space and cupping the other boy’s jaw with his right hand, “You’re worth everything to me. I really fucking mean it Cas. You’re always on my mind. I’m always wondering how you are, what you’re doing, what kind of things you like,” Dean’s gorgeous green eyes bore into Castiel’s blue eyes, and there was so much hope and honesty it hurt, “I don’t know what it is about you, Cas, but I want you so bad. I’m not even talking about fucking you, I’m just talking about seeing you every day and just holding your hand. I just want you.”

Then, without warning, Dean’s lips were on Castiel’s and it was as if the world had stopped. It was just the two of them in this moment forever.

Cas didn’t respond at first, too shocked at the contact to even think, but he soon found himself gripping Dean’s shoulders and kissing back with so much passion, it was as if Dean was his sole reason for living.

Their mouths melded together perfectly, there was a gentle sweetness in the way they desperately clung together, tasting each other’s mouths roughly, teeth pulling at lips, mouths sucking on tongues, and bodies pushing together to be as close as possible to the other.

It felt natural, as if his whole life had been leading to this cosmic kiss with Dean. The sun beamed down on them and the stars grew brighter, the universe was peaceful. Everything felt so right.

When they finally pulled away to breathe, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, Castiel uttered four life changing words in the joyful silence.

“I want you, too.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next few weeks went by in a bit of a blur. It felt as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button on Cas’ life, occasionally pressing play to draw out certain scenarios. Each elongated scene played contained Dean and the entire tape of Castiel’s life after the kiss featured him as the main character.

He was all Castiel could think of when he wasn’t actually with Dean, which wasn’t very often.

After Dean had found Cas, that fateful day, they didn’t really talk about what had happened to Castiel. Cas didn’t know if it was because Dean wanted to pretend he was fine, just like everyone else had deluded themselves into thinking, or if Dean just didn’t know when or how to broach the subject of recreational drugs. Either way, Cas was appreciative, because it meant no one would be stopping his self-destructive behaviour anytime soon.

What did end up happening that day was Dean walking Cas into his home where they watched a movie until Dean had to go home to make dinner for Sam.

“I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow morning?” Dean had asked, about to walk out the door.

“If it’s okay with you, I think I’d much prefer meeting you at your house,” Cas replied, not wanting to let an opportunity for exercise pass him by.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I am, thank you.”

Dean hovered over the threshold, then, looking uncertain, gaze wandering across Castiel’s face, landing on his lips.

Cas shivered in anticipation for the upcoming kiss only to be slightly disappointed when sturdy arms pulled him into a hug instead.

“Bye.” Dean murmured.

“Goodbye, Dean.” Castiel sighed sadly as Dean extracted his arms from Cas’ cold, emaciated body.

The next day, Castiel had met the Winchesters at their house, as he had promised. He spent the walk smoking in lieu of eating, just so he felt full somewhere, even if that somewhere was his lungs, which were more appropriately thought of as two dirty ashtrays.

When he was stood outside the Winchester’s he tossed the cigarette butt to the side of the street and walked up to the front door, knocking twice.

Sam opened the door, beaming and offered him some breakfast to which Castiel declined, claiming he had already eaten before he had left home.

When Dean greeted Cas, Cas had hope for at least a kiss on the cheek, but instead he got a grin and a clap on his back.

 

Every day was the same. A smoke and walk to Dean’s, a smile hello, a ride to school, morning classes where Dean sat next to him in the class they shared, lunch in his usual spot including Dean, afternoon classes, meeting up at the Impala, then returning to Dean’s house where he stayed until dinner, a smile goodbye, a smoke and walk home, where he’d then retreat to his room to sleep.

Being with Dean wasn’t exactly what Castiel had thought it would be like. He’d thought that after he confessed his feelings, there would be some sort of acknowledgement that they were more than just friends, and kisses. Castiel thought there would be at least some kisses, perhaps when they were left alone in Dean’s room.

Instead they just chatted about nothing of import and watched sci-fi television series and movies. It was nice, sending time with Dean, but it was just as if they were friends, like the time at the pond hadn’t happened.

Castiel would dream of that kiss only to wake up miserable and confused. Dean had said he wanted Castiel, but it seemed as if Dean had changed his mind. Castiel didn’t blame him; there was nothing to want from Castiel, he was just a broken mass of charred bones and blood.

Lots of blood.

Castiel made at least one cut every day, most of them were chastisements for wasting Dean’s time, and not being worthy of the pleasant companionship Dean presented him with. Others were to do with how ugly, stupid, fat, and annoying he thought he was. It wasn’t much of a wonder why Dean seemed to lack any sexual or romantic feelings for Castiel, which only hurt more as he realised he was falling hopelessly in love with Dean.

Each day was torturous, having to pretend he was just fine being friends, when all he wanted was to pin Dean to the wall and make him beg for Castiel’s touch, but Cas was good at masking his emotions, so he donned his neutral expression and went on with his daily routines.

He was worried, Dean would one day notice what a mess he was behind that mask, but he realised that Dean didn’t care a week and a half into their friendship.

Castiel had been trying to hide the fact that he smoked. Cigarettes were his lunch, but since Dean had started to join him, Castiel had taken to leaving class five minutes early, telling his teacher it was for various appointments, so he could race to his lunch spot and get in at least one smoke.

It was a Thursday when Dean found out. Castiel had only been smoking for one minute when he heard Dean approaching.

Castiel immediately dropped his cigarette, stomping on it, but he had been too slow. Dean had seen.

“Those things’ll kill ya, y’know,” Dean said nonchalantly, pulling out his lunch.

Castiel just stared, wide eyed, waiting to be reprimanded.

“You already ate?” Dean asked as he bit into a sandwich.

“Yes.” Castiel lied.

“Cool,” was all Dean said before launching into a story about something silly Sam had done.

From then on, Castiel would leave his class when the bell rang for lunch, letting Dean see him smoke just to see what Dean would do or say.

To Castiel’s dissapointment, Dean acted as if it was no big deal, just accepting it as if he didn’t care either way.

This lead to more self-destructive behaviour and drugs, to numb the pain of Dean’s indifference.

At the end of the third week, Castiel forwent the ride from school with Dean, opting to take a very long walk to his little pond, his sanctuary.

He sat down by the water and cried. He looked at all his scars, the ones on his wrists, the newly scabbed, the old and faded, the ones on his stomach. The word ‘FAT’ was still there a stark contrast of dark red compared to his pale, sallow skin. He ran his fingers over the ridges of the letters, enjoying the way they felt, in his intoxicated state.

Castiel found himself talking to the few little animals who ventured near him talking about the beauties of the world, including Dean. Castiel spoke about how everything and everyone was connected in some sort of wondrous way.

“So, in this way,” Castiel explained to a bee pollinating a flower next to him, “We're each a fragment of total perception—just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind.”

A twig snapped a few feet away from him, distracting him from his speech. Castiel turned to see what made the noise and was startled by the sight of Dean.

Cas was simultaneously ecstatic and upset that Dean had shown up, so when he greeted Dean by his name, it started out overly loud before trailing off to a whisper.

Dean just chuckled, “Hey, Cas. Thought I’d find you here,” and sat himself down next to Cas.

The two of them kept eye contact, Cas getting completely lost in those green orbs.

“Woah,” Castiel accidentally murmured.

“What?” Dean inquired.

“You…are very beautiful,” Castiel was so high he had no inhibitions, no filter from brain to mouth.

Dean just snorted and shook his head.

Castiel was confused by his reaction, until something finally clicked in his mind. Dean didn’t think he was anything special, Dean seemed to hate himself, just as Castiel hated himself.

Cas felt very sorrowful. Dean’s hard life must have somehow obscured how much worth Dean carried within himself. Castiel knew Dean had no one to take care of him since his mother died, but that alone shouldn’t have created the self-hatred that resided heavily in Dean’s mind. Something or, more likely, someone had triggered Dean and Castiel wanted to punch whoever had reinforced Dean’s false sense of ineptitude.

“Who did this to you?” Castiel couldn’t help asking.

Dean just frown slightly, confused as to what Castiel was talking about.

“Interesting,” Castiel mused over the new information he had received from merely observing Dean.

“Oh, yeah, it's friggin' fascinating,” Dean humoured Cas, “ Now. Why don't you strap on your angel wings and fly us back to my place?”

Castiel cocked his head to the left, squinting his eyes, “I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I'm sorry, no dice,” Castiel replied, trailing off into a fit of giggles.

Dean looked at Cas then, _really_ looked, and his eyes widened slightly “What, are you stoned?” Dean seemed somewhat appalled.

Castiel felt smug. Dean was finally paying proper attention to the obvious, “Uh, generally, yeah.” Castiel snorted with amusement.

“What happened to you?” Dean’s worry and sadness seemed to echo around them, sinking deeply into Castiel, like one of his razor blades, immediately cutting off his laughter.

“Life,” was Castiel’s only reply.

 

* * *

 

 

There was something off about Castiel. Dean knew he was a little odd from the time he caught him crying in the boys’ toilets, but he’d never thought too much on the matter. He figured Cas was fine, maybe just a little bullied by Crowley, but considering that, Cas was very kind and rather fun to be around.

He’d never thought he’d end up finding Cas passed out from drugs in the middle of nowhere, and he never expected Castiel to want him back.

That’s why Dean had only remained on friendly terms with Cas. When they’d kissed, the other boy had seemed distraught and confused. He’d taken God knows how many pills and he wasn’t thinking properly.

Dean had preyed on him, just as Crowley had, and Dean was disgusted with himself. Even though the memory of that kiss made him fill with hope and joy, it was sullied by the circumstances.

It was torture not touching Cas the way he wanted to, but he swore to himself he wouldn’t make any sort of advances unless Castiel asked him to.

Unfortunately, Cas hadn’t even thought of making a move, as far as Dean was concerned. So, more and more nights, Dean found himself accompanied by alcohol.

Sam was worried. Dean knew that, but he couldn’t help it. He just cared about Cas so deeply and Cas seemed almost indifferent to Dean.

When they’d sit on Dean’s bed to watch _Star Wars_ , Castiel always left enough room so that no part of them touched. It stung. It really did, but Dean wasn’t going to go cry about it to Sam or Cas. He’d grown up keeping ridiculous feelings to himself and he planned on keeping it that way.

As the days passed, Castiel seemed to be more and more distant and Dean didn’t know why. The day Dean had caught him smoking, he’d almost lost it. His beautiful Cas was hurting himself, but of course Cas wasn’t his so it wasn’t really his business.

Dean desperately wanted to talk about the drugs and the smoking and the way Cas seemed to be getting thinner and thinner, but he felt like his friendship with Cas was dangling by a thread. Anything he said could snap that thread and send him reeling into a dark pit of despair. He didn’t want to try to tell Cas what to do or scare him off with his unwelcome possessiveness, so he stayed quiet and watched his friend get worse and worse.

Dean felt helpless and scared. He distanced himself from his friends and his brother and became an alcoholic being obsessed with a sad blue eyed boy. It was easier that way, that way he wouldn’t be dragging anyone else down with him.

When Cas didn’t show up at the Impala the end of that third week, Dean finally lost it.

“I saw him walking. Didn’t he tell you he’d be walking home?” Sam asked, while Dean waited for Cas.

“No,” Dean breathed heavily.

“But you two are practically joined at the hip. Don’t you, like, talk about everything?” Sam was looking up at him with his giant puppy dog eyes.

“No,” Dean repeated, getting into his car and shutting the door with a sense of finality, trying to tell Sam to drop it.

“What did you do, then, Dean?” Sam bitched at him.

“Fuck off, Sam. Nothing! I did fucking nothing! Or I did something fucking terrible. Either way, it’s none of your damn business!” Dean cursed, racing out of the school parking lot.

The ride home was tense and silent. Sam wanted to ask more questions or yell at Dean some more, Dean wasn’t sure, but thankfully he knew better than to badger his older brother when he was in such a mood as he was at that moment.

Dean was stewing in his rage. He’d finally done it. He’d finally pissed Cas off enough to make him never want to see Dean again.

Dean pulled up into their driveway and growled, “Get out,” to Sam.

“Dean−“ Sam started in a warning tone.

“For fuck’s sake, Sam, I said out!” Dean yelled at his brother, making him feel guilty, adding another reason to hate himself on his ever growing list.

Sam grabbed his bag and stormed out of Dean’s baby, being a good enough brother to not slam the door, which only made Dean feel worse.

Dean needed some time to himself to gather his thoughts, so he drove around for a little over an hour and a half. When he finally stopped driving he was just outside the main part of his town next to a field which grew into a forest. It took a second, but Dean realised he could probably find Cas and sort all of their shit out.

Dean parked the car in the middle of the field and ran into the forest.

Fifteen minutes later, he found Cas, at the same pond he’d been before, talking nonsense to a friggin’ wasp or whatever.

Dean was at a loss with what to do with himself, with Cas, with their situation. He didn’t know if he should apologise or ask for an explanation or accuse Cas of being a danger to himself. Before he could figure out a way to approach Cas, he stood on a fucking twig and Cas was looking at him with his large blue eyes. Dean decided he’d let Cas take control of the conversation.

The more Cas spoke, the more Dean felt like crying. How had his angel become so broken? It wasn’t fair.

Once Dean realised Cas was high again he just pulled him through the forest, back to the Impala. Castiel was upsettingly compliant, letting Dean lead him by the hand. Dean realised this was how Crowley got away with messing with Cas. Castiel wasn’t worried about himself, he’d let anything happen to himself because he didn’t care about himself. It made Dean’s heart ache painfully as he helped his angel into the front passenger seat of his car.

“Where are we going?” Cas asked as they drove.

“To my place. I don’t want your sister seeing you this way.” Dean replied curtly.

“She won’t notice. If she’s home that is, and anyway, I’d probably just go to sleep so she’d never know,” Castiel said, boredom coating his words.

“Well, I’d like you to come to my house, that way I know you’re safe.” Dean explained.

“Why do you care? You don’t care about me,” Cas said petulantly.

“Fuck. Cas…” Dean bit back a sad sigh. “I do care. So fucking much, but how about we talk about this later, when you’re sober.”

“Okay,” Cas conceded.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel was confused. It was morning and he was lying in Dean’s bed fully clothed. His mouth was dry and his body ached.

He looked around sleepily to see where Dean was, but instead found a glass of water on the bedside table. Cas guzzled it down, recalling the previous day.

He’d gotten high, Dean had come for him and brought him to his house where Cas had immediately fallen asleep in Dean’s bed. He remembered being embarrassingly open about how attractive he found Dean, but that wasn’t too bad.

Castiel got up and stretched, going to look for Dean. The house was completely silent as the early morning light engulfed the house in an orange glow. Castiel tread carefully, trying to avoid any creaky floorboards lest he wake Sam up.

Castiel crept down the stairs, slowly. When he was on the second last step, the wood under him groaned eliciting another groan over on the couch. Cas froze for a moment, unsure of what he’d heard, when a sleepy, “Cas?” was muttered.

Castiel looked over the head of the couch to see Dean sprawled out in an old AC/DC t-shirt and boxers. Dean’s blanket was tangled up in his feet, revealing the long, tanned expanse of Dean’s thighs and calves. Castiel gulped, averting his vision only to be redirected to a large rip in Dean’s shirt, revealing his muscled stomach.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel breathed as steadily as he could, forcing himself to look into Dean’s sleepy eyes.

“How’re you feelin’?” Dean asked, sitting up.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Castiel replied politely.

There was a long pause in which Dean stretched and Castiel watched as Dean’s shirt rode up.

“I hope you slept well on your couch. My apologies for monopolising your bed,” Castiel said, blushing.

“Nah, it was no problem, Cas. I’ve slept on worse than this old thing,” Dean made his point by patting the worn cushions.

Castiel nodded in acceptance of Dean’s answer, unsure of what else to do.

“So, you were pretty fucked up yesterday. Wanna talk about it?” Dean asked bluntly.

“Not particularly,” Castiel responded. He watched as Dean’s face went from open kindness and concern, to closed off annoyance. “But, I suppose it would be most beneficial to our friendship if we were to talk,” Castiel changed his mind, unable to cope with Dean being upset with him.

“Okay, so let’s talk. What happened to you and don’t say life because that’s too damn vague,” Dean moved to make room for Cas to sit next to him.

“Um, Dean? Could we perhaps speak elsewhere?” Castiel inquired shyly.

“Oh, er, yeah, I suppose. Where were you wanting to do this?” Dean yawned.

“The pond.” Castiel felt silly, but he felt like he’d be more comfortable there. That’s where all the big things in his life had taken place. He wanted this conversation to be another of those ‘big things’.

Dean looked a little surprised, “You mean the place I’m always findin’ you?”

“Yes,” Castiel made sure to sound more certain of his decision so that Dean would feel less inclined to refuse.

“All right, man. Just let me get some breakfast and change. You want anything to eat?”

“No, thank you,” Castiel answered without a thought. As Dean walked away, Cas caught a glimpse of Dean’s expression of disturbed resignation and knowing, making him feel guilty for refusing the proffered food.

Dean got ready very quickly, and before Castiel knew it they were saying goodbye to a dishevelled looking Sam and getting into the Impala.

Dean drove quickly on the empty morning roads, the rumbling purr of the car a soothing distraction from what was to come of this conversation. It was either going to be the best or worst thing to happen to the boys. Castiel prayed it would all turn out to be okay.

When they got to the pond, they sat on the little dock, dipping their feet in the chilled water. They were both silent and the tension between them was stifling. Unable to cope with Dean’s stiffness, Castiel decided to be the one to speak first.

“My mother used to take me here all the time. I thought it was the sea, it seemed so vast when I was younger.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. They sat in a less tense silence until Dean had formed his response properly.

“What happened to her, your mum, I mean.”

Castiel looked out over the glittering water before him. “She died. It was an allergic reaction to a general anesthetic. It’s quite silly if you think about it. She just went in to the doctors for a routine operation, then she came out in a body bag.”

“Man, that’s rough,” Dean sympathised, laying a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“Rough is a bit of an understatement, Dean. I don’t have anyone. I don’t have my mother, my father hasn’t been home in years, my brother, Gabriel ran away from home when my father was still around, and Anna, she’s so busy working to support us that I never get to see her. I’m so alone Dean,” Castiel’s eyes grew sadder and sadder as he spoke around the lump in his throat.

“Is that why you do drugs? To make the loneliness go away?” Dean’s hand tightened its grip on Castiel, anchoring Cas, making him feel less alone.

“I suppose so. Though, who are you to judge? From what I’ve heard you enjoy the occasional joint,” Castiel was more accusatory than he’d meant to be, but he was uncomfortable with this topic of his life. He’d never shared so much in his life.

“Hey, whoa, sure I do. When I’m with my friends and we dim the lights and sync up  _Wizard of Oz_  and  _Dark Side of the Moon_ , not to run away from my problems!” Dean exclaimed, though a flash of guilt washed over Dean’s face.

“Then what is it you do when you don’t want to deal with your problems?”  Castiel asked in response to that look of guilt.

“That…that’s irrelevant. We’re talking about you right now, man,” Dean rubbed a hand down his face exhaling slowly.

“No, I don’t quite think it is irrelevant. Tell me the truth, Dean. If we’re to have any form of a relationship, we can’t hold anything back. Not now.” Castiel threw a pebble into the water, watching it sink in an imitation of his aching heart. He just wanted to get everything out in the open, then see if they could make some sort of romance out of the shambles of both their lives, but Dean was being so secretive about his own life.

The silence between them was screaming in Castiel’s ears as he kept his gaze on the spot where his pebble had disappeared.

“My dad,” Dean started, making Castiel jump slightly.

“What?” Castiel encouraged Dean to continue, confused when Dean said nothing more.

“My dad,” Dean repeated, “he’s an alcoholic, and…” Dean let out a shaky breath, “and I think I am too.”

“You drink.” Castiel stated.

“Yeah.  A lot. Like, so much, I’m dealing with a hangover every morning.” Dean smirked self-deprecatingly to himself.

“Why?” Castiel tilted his head.

“Honestly?” Cas nodded, “You. I mean it’s me, but because of, I don’t know, how I deal with you? I guess? I don’t know, it’s complicated, but it’s just me and Sammy in that house and I have to be strong for him, but I can’t because all I can think of is you, and how much I’m always fucking shit up between us.” Dean’s eyes were wild, full of unknown emotion, distress and self-hatred.

“How are you ‘fucking shit up between us’?” Castiel used air quotations, making Dean crack a tiny smile at how awkwardly adorable that was.

“Y’know, like making you upset that first time at my house and then kissing you when you weren’t sober and then I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, but I know I’ve upset you these past few weeks even though it’s been great just being with you.” Dean explained.

Cas looked up at Dean, squinting. “You assbutt!” Castiel cried, hitting Dean on the arm lightly.

“What?!?” Dean’s eyes went wide with surprise.

“You didn’t make me upset at your house! I made myself upset by making you upset!” Castiel huffed.

“What?” Dean uttered yet again, “You didn’t make me upset.” Dean said, frowning.

“I didn’t?” Castiel asked equally as confused as Dean.

“No, man. I mean I got kinda mad at myself when you left, ‘cause I thought I fucked up, but you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Hmm, then I suppose my apologies for running out on you are in order. I’m sorry.” Castiel’s eyes shone with sincerity.

“It’s okay, you weirdo.” Dean said, smiling. “But there’s still the kiss…”

“Assbutt,” Castiel muttered before crashing his mouth to Dean’s.

The kiss was slow and passionate. Searing Castiel’s lips as he tried to convey everything he was feeling. He made his annoyance known with the soft nips to Dean’s lips, his forgiveness with the soft strokes of his tongue, and his hope with the exuberance he put in with every motion, clinging tightly to Dean as Dean held him just as tightly.

When they broke for air, lips only millimetres away from each other, Castiel whispered, “I wanted that kiss, just as I told you I wanted you. Sober or not, I mean it. I want you Dean Winchester. Do you still want me?” Each word brushed against Dean’s lips.

“Fuck, yes, Cas.” Dean managed to get out before meeting Castiel’s lips again. This time there was more urgency in the kiss, as if Dean were trying to make up for all those weeks not kissing Cas.

Dean lowered Castiel down on the dock, not breaking the kiss. Castiel put his hands on Dean’s waist, keeping Dean in place so that their crotches were aligned allowing the two boys to rub against each other, making them feel sparks of pleasure reach their extremities. Castiel moved his lips away from Dean’s, kissing along his jaw and down his neck.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean sighed contentedly, running his hands through Cas’ messy dark hair.

Castiel reached Dean’s collar bone, where he attached his mouth, sucking gently, grazing his teeth against the spot and deliberately running his tongue gently over the bruise that was forming.

Castiel’s hand moved down to where Dean’s growing hardness was begging for touch, massaging him through the denim.

Castiel had thought about this moment for weeks, and now that it was finally happening, it was more perfect than he could have hoped for. They’d cleared everything up between them, there was nothing holding them back from giving and receiving such addicting attention. It was everything Cas had ever wanted.

Castiel unzipped Dean’s trousers, acting more boldly than he felt, and gripped Dean’s cock in his hand, moving his hand up and down Dean’s length.

“Oh, fuck, Cas!” Dean moaned, reattaching their lips as he began to thrust in Cas’ hand.

Castiel wanted to stay in that moment forever. Dean was completely at his mercy, Cas was making Dean feel good and that realisation made Castiel almost painfully hard in his own trousers. He bucked up, rubbing himself against Dean’s thigh, letting out a low grumble of pleasure.

“Dean. I want you to come for me,” Cas murmured after a long while in his gravelly voice.

All it took was several more strokes of Cas’ hand and some encouragement spoken in Castiel’s lustful voice, and Dean was coming all over Cas’ hand, calling out Cas’ name. Castiel rubbed him through his orgasm, placing soft kisses all over Dean’s sweaty hairline.

Dean collapsed next to Cas on the dock, kissing him adoringly, his hand undoing Castiel’s trousers to return the favour.

Within minutes, Castiel was seeing stars as he clung to Dean, moaning Dean’s name over and over.

Somehow Cas’ lips found their way back to Dean’s and the pair of them continued kissing, making up for all the times Cas had been waiting for Dean’s kisses and not receiving them.

“We’re good, right?” Dean asked, panting for breath between kisses.

Castiel let out a soft laugh, “I’d say we’re better than good, Dean.”

Dean smiled, eyes crinkling beautifully, before pecking Cas on the lips, “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this was my lame attempt at some semblance of smut. my apologies if it is rather terrible.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want you can follow me on [tumblr](http://deanandcastielwinchester.tumblr.com) where I post updates and whatnot.


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